stand still. Pretend you’re a plant. Stand still and wait quietly. Hold out your hand.

I'm searching for you, mother in the roots that ground my feet and in the arbor of my fingers reaching up into your light. Surely, it must be you in the core of my twisting trunk that has turned this way and that in yearning? I search for you, mother but only find ghosts I left behind; caught in the wake of my hungry quest they join me in my searching. Some, with empty eyes and some with frozen hearts, but all with lithe and ready limbs aflame and burning. I search for yo

What would I do without the people around me? I could not survive alone in the wild. Not many would, and that is what makes us— the willingness of the strong to hold up the weak; the desire to tend to the sick, and for the Voiceless, to Speak. I am not lost. I am loved. I am loved. I am not a burden. I am not a burden. I am Human: a being who can take without giving. For as one hand holds me up here, There, I birth a child or wipe a tear. See, life is not a transac

The doors to my master bathroom are just that—doors. Plural. Double. There are two of them. I’ve seen them referred to as French doors. ...

I'm afraid of the things That make me suffer— bright lights noise vivid colors smells movement: At the park with the kids...