Take My Hand

We can take a journey together to a place made for you and me.

If you just take my hand to walk along, I’ll show you where we’re free.

I will show you lilly white rapids dancing within the giggling stream.

I will show you cotton candy pink grasses in the fields of my dream.

We can traipse along the path that’s as peaceful as it is still.

We can sit and stare for hours from our cushioned window sill.

Let us parade through oceans of happiness, gleaming under the moon,

while our skin becomes a canvas painted by a singer’s croon.

Let us rush to embrace the love that is found within us all

Come and take my hand, let us heed the worthy call.

Take my hand! Take my hand! Let us go together to the promised land!

Worldly Remorse

When did I become your enemy?

How did I become your foe?

Why is all the violence the next big show?

We used to call each other neighbor,

helped when things got tough,

but now we’re aiming at one another

with angry words all rough.

Haven’t we done this too often?

Blaming everyone else for their sins?

As if we had the straightline to go

judging them  again.

But as I recall, a homeless jewish man

gave only two things to do

Love God above all others

and love others like you do you.

When did that message get lost?

How did we dig so deep into despair?

When we all bleed red like our sisters do

Are we too far gone to repair?

It’s time to dust off the LOVE

that’s been hidden in the wood

Allow holiness from above

to return our hearts to good.

Grief Makes No Friends

I’ve been experiencing significant losses in my life recently. But with limited friends near where I live, I have no idea how to find new ones when all I have to talk about is my best friend that died in my house or my cancer ridden little dog who is about to cross the rainbow bridge. It’s not all I think about, but it is the most prominent feature of my vocabulary because the losses are quite recent.

What I find most disturbing is that I feel like I should be “over” my best friend dying. I knew her for 37 years. We lived together for about 27 of those. She knew me better than anyone else on the planet. She knew my secrets and kept them to her dying day. She was my memory because when I suffered so much trauma as a kid, I didn’t remember much. She kept track of my life. I loved her truly and deeply. And although not my blood, my sister, died at 50.

My 95 year old friend, Miss Marge said that “Grief is just love with nowhere to go.” A random chaplain I saw at the hospital while waiting for Bean’s sister to arrive said, “Maybe you were the face of God she needed to see before she could find peace.” My mom said, “Grieve because you love so deeply.” All comforting words that help me feel a bit better.

Last year I lost so many people I thought it was somehow a cosmic joke. Like the Universe was declaring war on me but kept missing. Side note: I told my former pastor that he helped me not be mad at God anymore, but now I’m pretty pissed off again. This year has been deeply profound losses. So much so that I have pondered whether it’s even worth it to keep trying.

As a society we’re not allowed to take our time and grieve. On the day my friend died I still went to work. I didn’t take time off. I can’t afford to. I told anyone I talked to about her death. I just wanted people to know that an extraordinary person in my life was gone. That a light had gone out in this world and I couldn’t see hope. 

I’ve been given the platitudes and every one makes me feel like hurting the concerned person. I know they mean well. I know they aren’t trying to belittle my suffering, but for now, and for a while, just let me grieve. I don’t need to be fixed. I’m not broken. I’m human. I’ve lost someones I loved dearly. 

I try to shuffle what I feel under the rug because I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. I don’t want them to worry if I don’t get out of bed for days (I’m not counting the 18 hours). I don’t want to feel the rejection of my feelings as they talk about their lives and what they’re dealing with. I’m barely hanging on here. 

I cry when I eat dinner. I cry when I lay in bed. I cry when I look at my little dog and know I have to let her go. I cry when I shower. I cry at the news. I cry because for the first time in a long time, when she moved in, I felt happy. I felt like I had a piece of my heart back. I felt like I was on top of the world. And now…all I do is cry because I miss her so much.

I’m sorry this is so morose, but it is a conglomeration of my grief, my attempts to deal with it, the experience of my loss. It feels like I’m missing a large chunk of who I was because I lost my memory. I lost my secret keeper. I lost my childhood connection to hope.

Dying solo

I am invisible

I am a ghost who hasn’t died

I am a mourning heart

Standing here alive.

Every word spoken is dismissable

Every wish she were invincible

That we were indivisible

Death uncompanionable by my side.


Jet City has no sound

The air is silent in Kairos

The relinquishing of her crown

Cascading in musical spirals

Breath and blood to waste

Abandoned without pyre’s grace

To satisfy the needy

Whom upon the corpse fell greedy

At a lightning strike’s pace

To eliminate their guilty shameful face


The silence of her choking breath

Frozen heartbeat in her chest

Absence of her hazel gaze

Retrieval cries, my fears ablaze

Blue of lip, my sister keep,

Wishing death had been less deep

Burning fingers on icy skin

Begging life return again

Return the ticking of silent heart

Reunite those not meant to part.

Growth aloud

Born as a prism of love’s reward

Shattered by holocaustic lust

The jagged kaleidoscope shards

Rearranged the tiles from dust

Creating a mosaic of magnificence 

With antiquities grown sour

Breaking open Augustin distance

Sacred moments of a striking hour