My ancestral wisdom is tangible in my sunburnt skin, tasted on my compassionate tongue, washed in glorious joy, baptized in horrific sorrow. I am spirit ever expanding, heated with a desire to be loved, buried in the beaches of hourglass sands using a cracked red plastic bucket and a too small yellow shovel. I’m thirsty for knowledge, recumbent in peace. I am decayed by grief with only a mildly offensive odor. I have rebuilt myself, my life, my dreams with non-stock aftermarket replacement parts out of every past me I’ve ever been.
Category Archives: Observations
Healing Hugs
I hugged shame
I loved disgrace
I encouraged peace
To the weeping face
I heard confession
I felt mercy
I held his hand
Told him he’s worthy
Removed the prison
Of spoken word
Showed him value
By actions served
He sobbed for relief
From a god he doubted
Regret his badge
His sight; sin clouded
Visible pain
ached his soul
But his words dictated
Desperate control
Will he surrender?
Forgive his heart?
Remember his humanity,
That is tearing him apart?
I can’t fix him
Or make things better,
Just let him feel loved
Releasing the debtor
Who knew?
I have a client whom I’ve been with for over 8 months. I companion care he and his wife three times a week. He is extroverted, claims he hates people while socializing, laughs with his entire body, and is charmingly impish. She is quiet, speaks when spoken to, defers to her husband, but is sweet and expressive when she feels it.
I was doing a normal Thursday visit. He was in rare form. He declared himself indomitable then laughed when myself and his other visitor cheered his word choice. It was a grand celebration of friendship and excellent conversation.
The following morning I received a text that said things had taken a turn for the worse and he was in dire straits. Could I go visit? Absolutely.
Dire straits is an understatement. Although no fever, he was having a health crisis not experienced before. The secondary visitor of Thursday was informed of the situation and they also arrived. It was crushing to know that what we experienced the day before had done a 180. His stats were critically low, but being on hospice, comfort was key.
We prayed.
Okay, I confess, I thought prayer, like funerals, were for the comfort of the person attending to their love. Positive vibes and all that. I prayed to the Universe that peace would prevail, that the highest good would be met, and that his children would arrive in time to attend the final hours. He was put on several prayer chains, of which, I’ve also been skeptical.
For four days he knocked on death’s door. He wasn’t eating or drinking. He couldn’t swallow. He was doing a version of Cheyne-Stokes breathing (It’s kind of like a fish out of water. Because they can’t swallow, the mucus that normally goes down remains in the throat causing a “rattling” sound) He knocked hard, but…nobody was home?
Tuesday he was awake and aware of visitors; even speaking.
By Thursday he was sitting up in his chair, conversing, demanding, agitated that he couldn’t exercise “to stay fit.” He ate more than he had all week. He drank hot tea. He was cranky, but alert and responding to input.
Okay, so let me explain why this struck me as unusual. I honestly believed, as did the nursing staff, that he was going to die. His body showed all the signs of that coming up quickly. The children (my age and better), were told to prepare. But, what changed?
I’m sure there is a scientific reason for his sudden turn-around. I’ve seen and experienced people doing a “rally” (That’s when the dying person suddenly has a burst of energy that can make them seem competely “normal” again. They may want to eat their favorite foods, or drink, or talk with their loved ones. It happens surprisingly often.) Four days of awareness is unusual.
This particular set of events has really forced me to confront my views on prayer, on my own experience, and honestly, I feel like a bit of imposter. However, I’ll take the guidance of my fellow guest and roll with the grace that has been granted with this incredible occurance. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to be wrong, yet I want so badly to understand.
The next few days, other family members will be attending to him in conjunction with his children.
I will continue to pray. I am baffled, feel awkward in my Unitarian Universalist faith, curious as all get out, and willing to laugh at myself for thinking I knew enough. Do we ever?
Big Emotions

I eat big emotions with a ravenous hunger
gnawing on skeleton bones from my closet
just in case I missed a bit of sinew or gristle
making sure the osteology does not reassemble
into overwhelming feasts of horror
which must be returned with a clean plate
Where tears get sopped up with the bread of life
blood gets drained from the cups of my history
Scars and scabs are filleted into thin slices
childhood terrors served with wooden-spoon whipping
cream gone sour, bitter, painful to swallow.
I dig through my closet of deconstructed moral injury
dab my satiated lips with a crisp linen serviette
closing the door behind me.
Unknown Sacrifice
The earth requires sacrifice
The blood of generations
Spilled to sate the thirst
Women’s children slain
Prayers washing sins away
From the dearly departed
Best dressed pieces
Shards of life protruding
Draining deeply into the mud
Returning to the dust
willing to be sheep for causes
Draped in flags of uniform coffins
Souls unwittingly worth pennies to borrow
Billionaire comfort on widow’s grief and sorrow
Precious Creatures
Women are precious creatures.
Without her face at dinner, I have no sustenance.
I become entwined in melancholy.
To not hear her voice,
even when she’s scolding me,
leaves a void in my spirit so deep,
it’s nearly unbearable.
The room becomes devoid of breathable air.
To not see her face first thing in the morning
pilfers the illumination from my day.
She is my warming touch
that eases the cold shoulder of old age.
At dusk, my heart is full of hope
until I remember
that I’ll miss her smile when I close my eyes.
Despite reassurance that we’ll be together again, soon
it couldn’t be soon enough.
I long for the day when she can come home to me
and we can be together again.
Whatever The Face (VIDEO)
Whatever the Face
You don’t need permission to be angry with God
You’re not less of a human or any more flawed
It’s okay to yell, to scream, and to shake
To groan under your burden while your heart aches
To feel like you’re in it, totally alone
The weariness digging down deep in your bones
You don’t need permission to question your faith
To want something different than the cards that have played
You’re perfectly normal to deny what is true
The mistakes that were made that you can’t undo
Rejecting condolences because then “IT” is real
Bargaining, begging, willing to make deals
Wherever your God is, whatever the face
Know that you’re held in comfort and grace
The shoulders you cry on, the prayers that are offered
Are all given up to the ultimate Author



