Pieces

I wonder if in the days before it emerges, a butterfly is scared of what's to come, of who she will be, if she will have done enough to hatch in full form or at least be able to fly. How many times did she have to tremble in fear to shake her old skin off before she was strong enough to surrender to the cocoon? Does she try to stop time and freeze herself in place so she doesn't have to face who she will be, the life she will live outside of her shell, her second womb, her sa

In December of 2024 I left MN to spend 2 months in California. Just before I left, I found my Mother Wound; a heavy, dark boulder that...

Fine, black, packed sand, a boulder wrapped in bubblegum, heavy like a million tons of wasted time, of the years spent ch asing some kind...

Grief comes in waves, yes, but never in stages like everybody says. Grief comes in a spiral, finding its way back to you over and over and over, year after year after year, sometimes deeper, sometimes smaller, but most certainly, it will always come back. It lives here, in the tissues, coming and going, running in circles, up and down the layers and layers of heartbreak. It comes in waves, yes, and in buckets of shame and sadness, in flickers of hope, and gut punches of wanti