I am captivated by words, 
no matter their birthplace.
And so she tells me how to say
"I love you -"
"Jeg er glad i deg," or rather,
"I am glad in you."
Against words of such simple
yet deep affection, my native English
is left a pauper.


"Hope is the thing with feathers..." 
What a spunky little chap.
I have no question as to its identity,
only a chickadee would dare to sing
the cold away. But please, do not
cage the poor creature.
No, let it fly - up and away
and back again.
If you wish, build a birdhouse by your window
and that tenacious, tiny thing with
may come and sing for you.

~Thanks to Emily Dickinson for the inspiration 😉

Midnight Confessions

Midnight must be the time 
when all the stories I cannot utter
come out from the shadows
to proclaim themselves from the rooftops.
Sleep, is free
to roam where she will, while I
am allowed only the posture
of peaceful rest.
even that pittance is more
than I can bear.

They Said

“She is on a beautiful journey to healing" - 
they said.
But do you see me right here?
Can you fathom what I have done?
This night I have strangled my soul
once more, a little tighter
but still I breathe. What life
is this that I have chosen? An existence
I cannot justify - an exhausting pursuit
for which I was not created.
I am told
by the compassionate ones that life, my life -
could be beautiful. For this they say,
was I born.
But tell me now -
have you looked at what I have done?
Can you comprehend the shambles it has left
of my soul? I do not know
what has become of my journey,
but I cannot call it beautiful. I have given away
my beauty and I do not know
where to find it.


Maybe -
if you cut off my hands and
sucked out my brains,
then this would stop.
But until then
I am just one more worm
stuck on the proverbial hook
until some poor fish is also
swindled of his life
in exchange for a snack.

Much Afraid

Papa, Papa I need You.
Here on this path I’m walking, the night
has fallen and the trees, whose leaves
waved at me so cheerily this morning
now rustle, suspiciously. They whisper
around me in sinister, secretive tones, as if
the blackness, descending
has raised up my fears afresh -
and the wolves can smell it.
Papa, do You not know this forest also?
I have heard that You do.
Please, come hold my trembling hands,
and my fearful heart, so that I will know
even in this terrible darkness -
I do not walk alone.


 It is late now, and still
I am filled with an anxiety
which I cannot rightly name.
Perhaps that is part of the problem -
But just the thought that I know
what can numb these nameless ghosts . . .
“Stop in with me a while,
I’ll help you forget.”

Empty promises!
As hollow as the shells of once
noisy cicadas - obnoxious and tiny
beasts that never could sing.
Lord, can You hold this
fragile vase before I shatter -
if only from the mere suggestion
of falling.

The Words I Wish We Could Take Back

Indifferent – When you were gone, you were not here, but when you were here, you still were not available. Just get angry again! Do something already, so that at least I would have something – anything, to fight against.

Idiot – Why the philosophy of assuming the entire world is just a holding pen for idiots until they’re somehow proven innocent? Am I not part of the world? What then, does that mean for me, for your family?

            The one I will keep is “I love you.” You are the most painful, the most bewildering thing that life has smacked me upside the head with. But still I love you.

How Long It Has Been!

“And in that magical instant
you realize how long it’s been
since you felt just that way.”
Five years, on top of an unnamed mountain.
A lifetime ago - was it really you,
who has travelled all this way?
Never - what on this earth can compare
with being all here, right now?
Seven million, four-hundred thousand, sixty-
two gasping breaths before this one. Or,
the time it takes to fly to the stars and back.
In other words, forever -
and no time at all.

A Better Father Speaks

He has hurt you, yes.
I also know this pain.
I have longed for his heart for many years,
before you were born, and then
before your child eyes could see
this gaping wound, your inheritance.
My daughter
you know how I have held you;
I carry him also.
But a man’s life is too heavy
a burden for his child to bear,
please, do not try.
Let Me show you the greatest of miracles.
I will love him as you cannot
now love him yourself -
yes, even with the same gentleness
as that with which I have loved