Before I rise
he hops up onto the bed,
nestles in against my chest.
This feeling
is comfortable, familiar.
Soft dark fur
in the crook of my arm,
a warm belly,
toe beans between my fingers.
Before I rise
he hops up onto the bed,
nestles in against my chest.
This feeling
is comfortable, familiar.
Soft dark fur
in the crook of my arm,
a warm belly,
toe beans between my fingers.
The term ally implies I am not directly involved.I am not an allybecause it is not so simple as black and white. because this is not a war, not an us vs. them.The struggle is this: us vs. us, freedoms and futures intertwined like roots of plantsgrown in the same pot.
This post is inspired by a question from a friend. I experienced trauma in my childhood. Beginning in college, I have done footwork, with help, to heal those wounds. My friend knows this history, and so asked me what helps when past trauma makes itself known in the...
This post was originally published 11 September 2019 here under the title "Death: A Holy Interruption." Death interrupts us. This is what death does. Unafraid to break into our lives, it comes, and not when we expect it. It comes when it is ready. That time may or may...
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