On the eve of his birthday

My fingers hover over the keyboard because they know my mind is a cauldron of mixed up words haphazardly collected as I walk through the fog that is this grief. In all those words I find one phrase….this sucks so bad. It has been 201 days since my husband killed himself. There are moments whenContinue reading “On the eve of his birthday”

Soldiers never really come home

My morning was perfectly predictable.  No straying from the order I’ve re-composed around the welcoming…no, the resignation of accepting, the beginning of another day.  Now the poem I wrote rings through my head and knowing he couldn’t hear the garden symphony tears at my heart and I feel it at my core.  Stupid fucking poems. Continue reading “Soldiers never really come home”

His turn to sing

My garden is a symphony harmonizing with the bees Composer and conductor air moving through a breeze flowers strumming colors keep rhythm with the sun practiced wind picks up the chimes in the background birds talking in the crowd This is no ordinary symphony Do you hear it whisper now Air reaches out to findContinue reading “His turn to sing”

Knowing what you don’t know

11:11 is the random time as I open this journal.  He used to tell me that whenever he glanced at the time and it was all the same number, like 2:22 or 1:11 or whatever, he took it as a sign from the universe to remind him to be grateful that the universe sent meContinue reading “Knowing what you don’t know”