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Ballad of the Quiet Evening
Sometimes the hardest truth comes not from others, but from within. My husband is facing the painful reality that his father—once admired—was emotionally abusive, and he’s seen those same patterns in himself. It’s been raw, but he’s met it with courage and tears. Last night, we watched the sun set in silence. That quiet moment…
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Ode to the Dogs Who’ve Ruled Our Hearts
If you’ve ever shared your life with a dog—or four—you know the love that leaves muddy pawprints on your heart and fur on everything else. I’ve been lucky to call four unforgettable dogs my family. Each brought quirks, comedy, and comfort to our home. This playful poem is a tribute to those wild, loving souls…
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The relapse
Sometimes survival isn’t leaving—it’s staying when you’re unsure why, whispering truths before dawn, and imagining life beyond the wreckage. This piece is fiction, but not fully. It’s built from memory, pain, and the ache of almost leaving. I’ve known love twisted by addiction, apologies unspoken, and bruises beneath the skin. This isn’t revenge—it’s release, and…
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A Lament for the Distance
I don’t have all the answers right now, but I do have a tender, listening God—present in the camper, in the distance, in the ache, and in the flickers of hope. It’s okay to be confused. It’s okay to lament. That, too, is faith. So sit here in the sacred silence, not with perfect words,…
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I Was Not the Storm That Broke Us Down
Traditionally, haiku include a seasonal word (kigo) and reflect on nature or a fleeting moment. Mine stray from that path—not rooted in blossoms or moonlight, but in the raw season of survival. These verses speak to overcoming, to resisting the pull of the crystal ball of alcoholism. It’s a different kind of nature—one shaped by…
Echoes In The Current 