Writing it down
I didn’t know how else to get that ickyness out of my body so I wrote these words over and over until they covered three pages and...
I decided...
I decided to listen to the universe. To see the patterns of the voices and images of my life, and the most important voices of my life....
Roots and seeds
I picked lilacs for her on every Mother’s Day. Every May. She said as she recounted her childhood connection, her roots, her story. I...
What they don’t have
What they don’t have is struggle, of questions, of figuring things out together, of figuring out ourselves together. What they have is...
Moon guidance
Let me not forget the golden yet banana color of your crevices, your craters, your moon. The pointed yet subtle edges of your shape. The...
Pain
She writhes in pain on the bed. We will never know how real it is. The cloud of deception hovers over her like pain dripping from the floor.
colors opening
Spring Year of the Dog So many powerful and pynk and light and blue and dark and every color splattered on the paper, the paper grabbed...
Childhood mystery
Your language is too wild for us. It weaves in and out of current realities that we don’t understand. Your language is too above these...
Riding the waves
We sat there watching the lake waves and remembering the waves we've ridden, tumultuous and sweet, dull and exciting, together. JEO 5.4.16
Waking up
This turtle shell on my back awakens me and reminds me I am the mama I’m meant to be. ~jeo