With long, sharp knives they took his mother’s voice. Now on sterile sheets she lies silent, waiting for him. Lips … More
Tag: Grief
Slow Burn
There’s a match ignited there below my throat below the earth under rotting leaves caged … More
Grief is not a Process
It capsizes and grinds you. Leaves you keel-hauled bloody and breathless. It rolls in slowly. You don’t see it, then … More
Hecate's Journal 