Seeing through the eyes of others

poetry and writings based on the truth of life. Everyone sees through their own lenses. Trade glasses with someone else and view your world…and theirs. I write personal, I write upon request and not limited to one area, genre, or style

breathe

  • She counted the days, the hours, the weeks, the months, perhaps even the yearsShe sat before the mirror, studying her own reflection, yet the happiness she had expected was nowhere to be found. The joy, the esteem, the glory, the honor; none of it stirred within her. As a bride to be, she felt only… Read more

  • Per aspera ad astra

    Per aspera ad astra, I whisper to the rearview mirror as the road lifts me out of New Brunswick past trees that remember more of me than I will admit or the river holds my older names without asking me to stay boxes shift softly like unfinished thoughts in the back seat as I am… Read more

  • Even

    The chair once occupiednow sits empty, alonekept company only by flowersand a flickering candle. Quills lie abandoned in their baskets,their stories unfinished. The mirror, once alivewith dress fittings, careful hands,and reflections of quiet beauty,now offers nothing backonly a hollow, singular stare. There is an ache in losing everythingthat most will never know,but for the hundreds… Read more

  • Age, loneliness, empty

    Loneliness is a promise the heart made and no one answered. It settles quietly, waiting for a voice to meet it in the spaces between old conversations, in the wind crossing a cold, gray field The horizon presses flat against the earth, wide enough to make a person disappear.Seasons pass without asking, carrying off small… Read more

  • human trafficking…. oh to be honest

    Trapped in silence, with only the white noise pressing in around her, she had no way to escape what was happening. She was locked away, abused, hurt, and destroyed, hidden from view while human trafficking took its toll on her mind, body, and spirit. She was treated like something to be used and discarded, made… Read more

  • Grief, Stages, Truth, why?

    There are no five stages of grief. The stages you heard of or read were written for people who are dying, not for those left behind. I am from Oklahoma, where the land is steady and wide, yet nothing in me felt steady after that five months, six days, twenty hours, and forty minutes ended… Read more

  • heart, life,

    She stands in the hush before thought becomes breath, her presence gathered from shadow, warmth, and stillness The water holds her like a private hymn; reeds, dusk, and weathered light keep their distance, as here is something old in her composure Something Gothic in the way silence clings to her, although the air around her… Read more

  • Avoidant Attachment

    To the one who learned to stand on their own, to avoidant attachment patterns…. Somewhere along the way, you picked up a story that sounds like this:“I can take care of myself.”“Getting close to people just complicates things.”“If I don’t need anyone, nobody gets the chance to hurt me.” If truth be told, that story… Read more

  • sides or side or who

    We grow up thinking someone will come… someone will fix it… someone will save us… but somewhere along the way… it becomes this:your side… my side… their side… his side… her side… lines appear… not on maps… but in living rooms… across dinner tables… inside conversations that used to feel safe… one person chooses red…… Read more

  • build it

    Grief has a way of making a room out of the body, and asking us to live there, We learn the shape of silence the weight of a phone not ringing the chair that stays occupied by absenceStill, we keep going, not because we are strong but because the morning arrives and asks for our… Read more