Noise competes for our creative soul. Clarity is somewhere the echoes of a silent room.

I cannot find spare words. Clatter invades even with my eyes closed. When I open them again life shrieks to be cleaned up, cared for, ordered.

This noise competes for our creative soul. Clarity is somewhere the echoes of a silent room.

The bare pages have waited for me to trust myself with words again. First words spill like heart ache.

Advertisements

{Ten Thousand Tears}

Originally posted on Logic & Imagination:
My tears are welcome. I see them splattered, dried on my glasses as I peer out the window into the wintry, cold, gray, foggy morning; tiny specks on the panes of my eyeglasses. I wipe hard at these dried salty witnesses. They are a record of my sodden heart. Ten thousand tears…

My Very Little Faith

1. As it turns out I have A Very Little Faith. Perhaps I am a product of my human father who believed personal greatness was achieved through his tenacious hard work. Having a false humility, showing off A Very Big Faith, I saw that it was one that didn’t fundamentally change his character. Not really. This…

Happy Birthday to Me: A Look Back. And A Book Release.

I’m forty-eight today. Surreal. We will not celebrate for various reasons, none of which are as morbid as you’re imagining.  It is: no wish to celebrate (yes, I told Tom not to do anything) and being a little broke. I’m content. Instead of writing my annual birthday post, I’ve listed all the essays and poetry I wrote…

New: When God Seems Silent

 1.  I have not lost hope though I have lost the ability to hear God. Whether God is silent, which I doubt, or whether the pain throbs too loudly in my heart’s chamber to hear, I don’t know. What my family is experiencing is not suffering. Life is hard and this distinction is important to…

When Depression is a Killer: My Story

1 Anxiety crushes me in sleep. It wakes me in the middle of the night with my chest already full of dread before I’m even conscious of being awake. For two years this Depression has been inside me.  This is the longest duration I have ever experienced. At times my depression is a low hum…

{I Lost the Month of May: A poem} by Melody Harrison Hanson

I lost the month of May somewhere between watching my mother suffer extreme pain and mental confusion. I felt her pass by heavily; Time, slowed to a crawl as I was watching. And now, the month of May is gone. Time lost cannot be retrieved. I know this as my friend’s cancer roars in wildly. This third…

{rough thoughts on love and mortality in the middle years}

I have no business writing when I need to be packing, preparing, paying bills, picking up prescriptions, cleaning house, and washing laundry, readying myself and the family for me to leave town.  These are very drafty thoughts on aging parents, ailing friends, launching teenagers, and being human.     Love and Mortality in the Middle Years Our…

How to Love a Drunk: Bits of My Story are published and #FFWgr

How to Love a Drunk When you’re an alcoholic you get to tell your story  and admit to your illness at the oddest moments. There is usually no time to prepare emotionally or to get the words just right.  What comes is what comes.  I actually enjoy these unrehearsed moments.  The questions I’m asked push…

Organizing and Rearranging

Hi, After having this blog for six and half years, I’m finally reorganizing. WordPress sends their congratulations.  I take the time to go back and look and my first post was 2008, October.  If that’s true then I’ve been sober six and a half years.  Hooray! Today I accidentally sent an empty page to you. Sorry for…