I’m interested in writing within the tensions of our humanity with the both and: our joy and our grief, beauty and brokenness, courage and fear, celebration and rage, and everything in between.
My hope is that my writing has the ability to connect to what lies at the core of being human. Whether I am writing poetry, a newsletter, or an essay, my writing aims to be honest, attentive, and centered around connection. May these words housed here meet you and encourage you.
“Your anger and damage and grief are the way to the truth. We don’t have much truth to express unless we have gone into those rooms and closets and woods and abysses that we were told not to go into. When we have gone in and looked around for a long while, just breathing and finally taking it in—then we will be able to speak in our own voice and to stay in the present moment. And that moment is home.” – Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird
The Many Doors to Home
When we look inside
We may
At first
See
What seems to be
An abyss
Impossible to navigate
The darkness,
pain,
fear,
and shame
within.
When we look inside
We may
At first
Hear
Voices that seem to be
Speaking
“Don’t go inside
any doors you find.
Keep them closed.
Push the pain away.
It is safer that way.”
They say.
That is,
Until
You hear something,
Someone,
Knocking.
…
The soul holds
Many doors.
Many choices too.
When you see
The dark doors of
The soul
Not as the forbidden abyss
But, as the
Avenues
To your home
You find a little courage
To go in.
When you hear
The voice
Of the exiled pain
And recognize
She speaks
Quite similarly
To you
When you
Were eight
You begin to pay attention
To every door you see
To find a way
To set her free.
When you see
That each door
Is connected to
Your grief,
You breathe.
And then,
You scream—
Oh, you scream!
Relief.
You need your anger
Here.
She will help you
With putting the locks away
And opening the doors
To walk in
And
To stay.
She will guide you
Through your fear
Of what you may see.
She,
Anger,
Is a faithful friend.
Though,
Your exiled pain
Does not know that of her yet,
So, walk gently through the doors.
Let Her
know
You are there
To keep her
Safe.
…
You tread lightly
As you approach
The first door
On the door hangs
A sign
“You are too much”
Below the sign,
Many locks.
Anger stands besides you
She reminds you:
Breathe
And look in your pocket—
You hold each key.
She gives you permission
To feel
Your fear reverberating
Inside your body
Feel it
Acknowledge it
And then,
Move out of it.
Grab the key.
Move towards the door.
You can go in.
…
You go in.
Timidly, yes.
But, bravely too.
Fear and bravery can co-exist.
They often do.
…
As you go in,
You come to find
A foreign familiarity.
A sense that
You know this place
More than you could
Ever known.
It isn’t dark in its entirety
There are spectacles of light
lining the hallway
Your feet tremble
Down
Opon.
You begin to
Pay attention
To what you hear
With each step,
As you approach each door
Different melodies
Meet your ear.
You begin to sing along
And find a sense of
Home here.
Somewhere, along the way
Anger went her separate way
However,
She encouraged you
To return back to
The door she first led you through.
The locks are gone.
The door is cracked
With a small note,
From a faithful friend
That leaves you in tears:
“You are enough dear”
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