{A Cautionary Tale of Sobriety}

When I first began this blog in 2008, it was (in many ways) a place to process my alcoholism and recent sobriety.  I felt very alone and thought, why the hell not?  One of the first things I wrote was a poem (of sorts) titled It’s Lonely Here on The Wagon. That poem chronicled the…

Step On A Crack {A poem about Living}

She drank coffee at 4:29 in the afternoon but knew it won’t do the job on a soul that’s stopped dead. And no amount of caffeine is going to wake it. It happened a long time ago, so far back in time she can’t see it, certainly can’t remember when a little girl of puddles…

When you are Afraid of Home

It was stunning for me to realize that I had no anxiety the entire time I was away at the Festival of Faith & Writing. The thought of returning home brought the familiar burning in my chest — so unwelcome.  I do not want to accept its presence. And just for a minute I know that…

When I’m Scared

Scared. Scared shitless and no plan to make it better, makes for a very hard week.  Too much comparison with others’ lives, careers, talents, jobs,  kids, health, weight, even others’ sense of humor.  It all kills all my joy.  Not enough trust kills my ability to enjoy my incredibly blessed life.  Constantly thinking about all…

On Motherhood: Searching for Meaningful Metanarrative

I keep crying out that I want a bigger purpose for my life.   The universe cries back, your purpose is right in front of you. I cry back– it’s not enough.  It’s not enough.  This is not enough! I cannot pretend. I’ve been up and down, sometimes miserable lately. And I’m ashamed of myself….

Something New [a poem]

Often, I wrestle with God. I am a doubter.  I regret my own suspicions and fears and I am also strangely grateful. Yes, I am glad. For to wrestle is honest. And I have seen that as I face my darkest hours, as twilight turns to morning and I am awake, still. As I am fighting…

I Regret Not Being Happy (A poem)

I regret not being happy. Or happier if that makes you feel better. As if I could do anything to change myself. I doubt that it is in my power at all to change me. Particularly when I feel this heavy.  Smothered by a lingering gloom. And I know that disaster sits around the corner waiting. No, I…

God’s Whisper. [A poem]

Very early in the morning before the sun is up and hours before there is noise in my sleeping house, I rise. As I creep down the stairs, I hope that no-one hears them creak loudly. After I have made the blackest coffee, it sits hot and comforting between my cold hands. I sip it as I sit, read and pray. Pondering…

Stop Trying So Hard!

Don’t lose any opportunity, however small, of being gentle toward everyone. Don’t rely on your own efforts to succeed in your various undertakings, but only on God’s help. Then rest in his care of you, confident that he will do what is best for you, provided that you will, for your part, work diligently but…

Splintered Truth

… Originally uploaded by M e l o d y This is not the end. It is just another day. A bitter clutching. Somehow she will love, enough. And will continue to speak truth. Their voices are her voices which hold power for her, only if she listens to the clutch of their ancient lies….

my poem: no dignity

There’s no dignity in panic. It stops your heart from consuming any sensation, real or otherwise. Your brain hums, but it’s got no tune. It is an off-key drone. You can’t breathe, your lungs forgetting their purpose,like a pillow over your face, it suffocates. Your feet are leaden; won’t walk, won’t work. In fact, decency…