I have been witness to the image of myself
as given me like little gifts from others
In return my expression of their desires made manifest
This was the bargain we made and kept until
we could no longer be each other’s mirror
When with a crack then a shatter we lost each other

Love makes room for true Being
but few are aware of such selflessness

The Gift of Compassion

He was like a fish gasping for air
and the fear on his face was imprinted
in my skull with all the other loathings
that he created in me – his broken
skin pocked and red – he picked
incessantly, those clotted napkins dotted
the floor like wayward children set astray.
And oh wasn’t that what we became?
Did he not bring out in each of us some hidden
doom we did not want to face? And all these
years later, here we were, thrust against the grain
once again – but lo we did not run.
Eye to eye we faced the misery,
that brown eyed fish and me,
as he groaned to rise, and fall, and rise
I caught him and allowed him to lean on me
as he dragged himself across the room, pants
falling and trapping him there on the stair,
and me calling to angels lest he fall backward
upon me, pinning me beneath his frail, sickly
shit stained self. And this is how it was, the
beauty and frailty of the dance we shared.
This was not the father, daughter dance I’d envisioned.
He was my greatest lesson on compassion, and
perhaps that was the most powerful gift he could bestow.

~ My father was an alcoholic. This scenario was burned into my brain, along with many other horrors. This particular evening, I was helping him to bed in yet another drunken stupor. I often wonder what awful things occurred in his life that made him disappear nightly into the bottle? I honor him by facing my own demons, by embracing them in Love, thus removing their power to devour me. I Love you Dad. ❤


I had to leave my body
As it were
I was destroying it
With my mind
In the stillness of the cosmos
It’s vibration roared
Reminding me of its presence
This energy of Life
That reawakens the awareness
Of the One I Am
And heals All

~ Nothing can stand broken in the awareness of One

A Thing Worth Doing

I watched as the day rolled silently past.
It didn’t invoke a thought, or elicit a response.
It didn’t speak as it arrived, nor when it departed.
It simply rolled past my window as if it didn’t know me at all.

You see, it didn’t.

And outside, the world rolled with it.
I watched all the people marching in droves – like lemmings they went.
Not to be outdone, vehemently they chased after their successes.
And me behind the glass, having none of my own to claim.

All I ever wanted was to know real Love.
To paint in black and white the human frailties.
But the world does not stop its hungry pursuit for such triviality.
Not even the crashing glass or bloody shards could sway them.

You see, no one even noticed.

To grasp the human heart of stone with fleshy blood drenched hands!
Words of fire spreading; Awakening the weary souls to things unseen.
That which causes them to be Loved, and to Love.
Now that would be a thing worth doing!

Indefinable You

I had to remove my gaze – for what had been was veiled in the past, and I could no longer stare at the emptiness left in its place. You see, I had been torn apart by it. I had looked as though it be an eternity, and I mourned its over-ness with a great and terrible tumult that welled and swelled and ultimately became me. I was a great writhing beast of turmoil, and it was within myself that I needed to pour out my unconditional love as though a salve to cover those ripped and torn places. It was for a length of time that I would nurse myself through that pain. That I would sit with it – that great and hulking beast that I had become – and with gentleness – allow myself to express it in its entirety, and for the duration that was necessary in order that it would finally subside. Only then, in that quiet moment of acceptance, could I move my gaze in a new direction, and in so doing, continue down my life’s chosen path.

Sorrow is best dealt with in the open, and with no fear of the grieving. It must be embraced in order that its final power be manifested into some larger, better vision. To tuck it away, to hide it behind a sheen of denial, is to let if fester and rot and ruin the beauty that is trying to emerge from within the darkness. Do not let the fear of pain rob you of your transformation. Too many are choosing pretense over raw, real, humanism and it is slowing the pace of life, and creating empty husks of apathy where fiery souls once resided. You are the Light shining out from behind the crack in the veneer. You think you are the veneer, you think you are the story of your life, and that every label you wear is an accurate description of who you are – But when that story crumbles apart, instead of rushing to write a new story – Stop and Be with Yourself in solitude – Experience the Light that You Are ~~ That is the Indefinable You


I have a dog named Frankie
He is a wiener dog
His coat is brown and silky
His legs are stalky husks
Like rotten toes his breath does smell
But Daddy’s toothbrush cleaned that up
And now my Frankie’s breath is sweet
But daddies breath smells just like feet!

~~ I wrote this poem for my daughter years ago when she was a little girl and we would read it and laugh and laugh! Oh, The Joy! ❤


I’m already there, in that place I’ve envisioned, sipping tea
whilst waiting restfully for my restless self to arrive.

Thank you, Sammi! That was fun!