A poem for healing — People will tell you that “time heals all wounds,” but I think we got that wrong — it’s not time that heals — it’s people. People who see the sadness in your soul and try to be the balm to fix it: with homemade banana bread and coffee on Sunday…

One part poetry, one part self-care — Take a deep breath — and keep breathing. Pour yourself a glass of water, drink it, and repeat that whole process eight more times throughout the day. Read words that are not your own, and pay attention to where those words take you and how they make your heart move…

A poem for daughters and mamas — I will sing to her in the morning, and play with her in the afternoon, and gently brush her hair before she goes to bed in the evening — I will make her breakfast of bacon and buttered toast and fresh fruit, and remind her that food is something to celebrate and enjoy…

A poem and a gentle reminder on International Women’s Day — Who do you think you are? They’ll spit out those six words as if they’re tiny daggers / as if you’re sometimes supposed to cower in a corner / or cast your eyes a little more downward / or deflate your spirit just a tad / Who do you think…

A poem after Jess Janz — The smell of pancakes swirls with coffee — and although the warmth of the spring sun has started to grace us with her presence, the frost of winter is still fighting the good fight. We’re nestled in a booth in a diner on a Saturday afternoon — warm, cozy, and…

A poem —

A poem from the produce aisle — I stopped in the grocery store to pick up milk, and while there, I decided to get some fresh vegetables for dinner. I was lingering in front of the broccoli display when I heard a tiny voice exclaim with glee: “look at the carrots; they are BEAUTIFUL!” To my right…

A gentle reminder for those tough seasons One day it’ll feel better than this, better than the hurt that weighs heavy on your soul, like a thick wooly sweater saturated with water. It’ll feel better than the ache that sits within the chambers of your heart, like a cold you cannot shake. It’ll feel better than the…

A poem with a little nostalgia — The baby is sleeping, the dishwasher is running, and we are curled up on the couch with a hot cup of tea, about to watch our television show, when I notice that the snow has stuck — and our front yard is covered in a blanket of white. Just seeing…