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I re-read your letter today. I keep it in a drawer in case of emergency. Sometimes when I miss you, it helps to pull out that letter and see your handwriting. I imagine the way your hand moved across the page, and recall the feel of it in mine when we prayed together. The paper
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There was a hum in the air around me. The expansive room was filled with other people, but I barely noticed them. I was centered on the statue in front of me. It had been placed behind a wall of glass to protect it, to separate it from the people who came to view it.
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If I had been the second girl My mother would have named me Hannah But I was not the second girl So instead, she named me Sarah. If I had been named Hannah I wonder if I would have pleaded with God Distressed to the point of incoherence As the ones who loved me offered
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Going to church Is like needing a repeat cesarean Having your scars cut open and all anyone says is “Your baby is so beautiful.” Going to church Is like mindlessly picking at a scab Realizing the damage only after you’re told “You’re bleeding.” Going to church Is like marrying an alcoholic Watching the person you
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Pressing onward when your joy has dried up Is like being the last of the roses to drop their petals Or the tree that slowly releases its leaves from the canopy. You shed as you move, flaking what is left of your smile Leaving a thick trail of your dream’s dust behind you That others
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I once knew a guy Who practiced the healing magic Of turning off his phone And ignoring his life until he felt whole. It was a frightening habit Because when he disappeared I imagined The worst possible reasons Rather than taking our time apart To do my own healing and renewal. The power of melting
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Thank you For explaining my own feelings to me And growing angry when I press you And pushing me away. I understand now That there isn’t a safe space at this table Where I can be valued Without needing to shrink. Thank you For pointing me onward When I was searching for an exit Of
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Emptied of worry Napping in the sunshine, I Drift and dream in peace. Sinking into calm, Napping in the sunshine, yes, It is glorious. Breeze across my brow Napping in the sunshine, ah! The bliss of nature. Warmth filling me up, Napping in the sunshine, I Find my truest rest. Emptied of my cares Napping
The Quick and the Dead
Short stories. Creative experiments. Ideas that might not pan out.
The Quick and the Dead 