The Anatomical Study of Abuse

Now that I am studying the anatomy of abuse, I run my fingers under the skin of slaughtered souls who are still alive.

With Love… L.A.

To write around the things I cannot speak.
To frame the house of my humanity.
To put the roof back on my soul. 

Power

Be suspicious when someone of greater power assigns blame to someone of lesser power.

Dear Courageous Creatures…

I was nervous to meet you. Nervous not to be enough. I was afraid to be, to bring my body not just my soul to you. And there you were – althogther lovely and smashing.

Shipwrecked

His approach was stealth, quiet, brooding, and dark. He came over my soul and spirit and in one bite severed my hands. Not my heart, no – my hands. I could no longer grasp the driftwood or the bread of hope.

Dear Little Girl…

Little girl, by degrees your littleness will leave. By degrees so will you.

The Man, The Morning & The Mourning

I too hunger for justice, truth and hope.

If you need me, you will find me in a secret and sacred place.

With an upturned chin to Him who is Justice, Truth, and Hope.

The coffee is hot.
The candles are lit.

The flame is small but bright enough to illuminate the way.

My way.