The gall ink slid slow across the grain
not just black, but silent breathing.
It curled where silence might remain,
where truth lay soft and seething.

It danced in fibers, not for show,
but for the ache of meaning
each line a pulse, a moment letting go,
each word a quiet keening.

The letter held no voice or name,
just petals and a thread.
But still the ink remembered flickering flame
long after it was said.

And when the lamp gave one last sigh,
its breath a final stain
the ink still moved, too bold to die,
alive upon the grain.

some will land on your doorstep
some will burst through your door
some will shatter your complacency
some will make you beg for mercy
some will break open your heart.

I dance

Alone and in silence
To the music within me
No one hears

I dance

With grace unbalanced
Like a swan on water
With no fear

I dance
Like no one is watching

Even though I know
No one hears
The sweet sound within me

But I dance

With great pride I dance
With love I sway

To the sweet sound
No one hears

But I dance anyway

Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

Grief is a strange thing.
It can have many masks and be many faces.
It can be anger.
It can be hate.
It can be laughter
And it can be an overwhelming sadness.
Grief is a stranger.
It is the man in an alleyway dressed in black.
It can watch you.
It can grab you.
And it can even make you one of its own.
It is in times of Grief we must fight.
We must crawl and claw our way out.
Because Grief can make us a stranger,
Even to ourselves.

I used to believe I wanted to be like water.
Water that melds into any shape.
Water that is relaxing and peaceful.
Water that, when given enough time, can cut through anything.
But now I realize I want to be like fire.
Fire that gives warmth and comfort.
Fire that burns fast, creating its own path.
Fire that gives light in total darkness,
Giving you an opportunity to find your way out.
Water is used.
Fire is untamable.