Into The Web

When the morning comes

she will spin into the web of it all,

and she will make the great adventure

across the weave of the day.


Heart And Soul

What a beautiful option.

To live.

With all your heart and soul.


Never Ever After

To the waking heart

there is no such thing

as never ever after.


The Journey to Shine


‘Yes, Moon?’ Sun replied, glancing over his shoulder at the beautiful, shining friend who sat so solemnly beside him. He continued to dangle his fishing line over earth. Soon, he knew, the daytime of the south would chomp.

‘I have a confession to make, Sun. Oh my goodness. I think I love my shine,’ said Moon, gently drooping with shame.

‘But why would you think that loving your shine is a a bad thing, Moon? Heavens, silly duffer. How dear you are to me.’

Moon raised her face and pointed into the distance. ‘Those stars over there told me that if I love myself, it means I’m arrogant. It means that I only care for myself. It means…that I am bad, and they are good.’

Sun looked upon the group of stars in the distance- beautiful little star children, enjoying their perspective of the world, shining the only way they knew how.

‘Moon. But you must love your shine, otherwise you would snuff it out and there would only be darkness. The humans need your shine. And so do those stars over there. Because one day, they’ll be offered the chance to unleash their own shine- and you’ll have already given them permission to say: yes.’


We Live

As we enter a new year

and a new world,

we stand together





Life is for living.

And so it is



Facing the Truth

I stopped

and I said to myself:

I am in pain.

I did not try to hide it.

Or justify its reasons.

I did not try to pretend

the hurting wasn’t there,

or as true as it truly was to me.

For a moment I looked around

for the escape I’d always looked for.

The rug to hide all the knowing beneath.

The rug of make believe: the chance

to believe that the pain did not exist.

But it did.

It lived in my heart.

And though I wanted it to leave…

I let it be.

And I knew it was okay

not to shine it away

with my sun.


Fragile Beautiful

The same pattern repeated itself over and over, in various ways.

And with each new scenario of social anxiety, a sense of unconscious shame was born and continued to grow.

I should have been able to call my friends without worrying that someone other than my friend would answer— we were teenagers. No one else my age seemed to have a problem with calling their friends. Everyone else was normal. (I wasn’t very normal at all.)

I should have been comfortable going to a new parents group to chat and compare notes over coffee— I’d had thirty-something years to learn how to be confident. Everyone else was crying out for a group to support them. (I was crying out for an excuse not to go.)

I was too sensitive. I was too weak. And because I was weak…I was ashamed of this me person who seemed somehow broken compared to the normal people who were unafraid of all the things that frightened me. 


How beautiful fragile I am.

How beautiful fragile I always have been.

Me who loves like the deepest ocean.

Me who was made this way so I could translate my heart into words.

So I could play and sing, and feel my music, not just hear it.

I was made this way because I was made this way.

Because I am fragile beautiful.

Because I am fragile-beautiful-me.

photo of heart shaped balloon
Photo by Andreas Wohlfahrt on






Life to Come

She had spent too many hours of her life

fearing things

that might not come to pass.

brown hourglass on brown wooden table
Photo by Mike on


A Blog a Day in May

The Sun Is Waiting

I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t stay.

I have plans to sit on the grass

and breathe.

The sun is waiting.

silhouette of man at daytime
Photo by Prasanth Inturi on



A Blog a Day in May


A face in the mirror; a gentle head tilt; a naked, swan neck.

Her fingers find the soft of her collar bone and drift upward: chin, cheek, forehead— every part of her, delicate. Like a bird, she thinks. The mirror shows her nothing new, and yet everything has changed.


Because for the first time in her life, her beauty becomes her. This time, it hasn’t found her through the hungry eyes of a man, or through the careless words of a well-meaning shop assistant.

It’s found her from the softness of all that she is.

So this,

she thinks,

is what beautiful really feels like.

woman wearing black and white polka dot shirt
Photo by João Jesus on