by lori | Apr 29, 2021 | Acceptance, Aging Gratefully, Alzheimer's, Content, Culture Shift, Essays, Flash, Getting Lost, Gratitude, Grief, Neighbors, Pain, Pandemic, Poetry, Respite, Stillness, Strength in Real Life, Unapologetically Odd, Uncategorized, Wayfinding, Women, Writing
1. Our flags always fly at half-mast now.Wide and unhealed wounds on high for the world to seeflap dripping loss and pus rains down into the public square. Below themwhite men, whips still in handand a few hard-yoked women, their heads downplodding alongfacing only... by lori | Sep 7, 2020 | Alzheimer's, Beauty, Content, Culture Shift, Feelings, Gratitude, Grief, Grief and Loss, Here and now, Love, Magic, Nature, Neighbors, Pain, Pandemic, Poetry, Respite, Wonder
This is for Bayo, who prompts me to be more honest and open, more me, and to let go into becoming more us… Some friends are saddened right now by humanity’s apparent reactionary rush to re-occupy familiar ways during this Covid-19 global pandemic (known as... by lori | Jun 13, 2018 | Artists, Beauty, Found-Object, Gratitude, Grief, Here and now, Magic, Poetry, Respite, Women
Poetry reveals our hidden roots and connections. Isn’t that cool? Look what I just found. This brings me so much joy… The Light of the House by Louise Imogen Guiney (published in Happy Ending: The Collected Lyrics of Louise Imogen Guiney, 1909) Beyond the cheat... by lori | May 15, 2017 | Beauty, Culture Shift, Gratitude, Grief, Here and now, Love, Nature, Neighbors, Pacific Northwest, Poetry, Respite, Work
When the wind strolls in, my meadow friends dance and bow. When waves rush to crash across my ocean friend, wide beach smiles back at me and the eagles work-resting silent on wind above etch sky-to-horizon greetings down all the way home so strong, having learned to... by lori | Feb 24, 2017 | Gratitude, Grief, Here and now, Nature, Poetry
i. see her there that wide open tree out my window the one with gray arm branches, no leaves, and peeling bark? holding divine moss in perfectly twisted hands? the one that all the flickers love? I am breaking, she says, just breaking. ii. Here in this valley between... by lori | Feb 6, 2017 | Dreams, Grief, Pain, Poetry, Wayfinding
Since the inauguration two weeks ago, I’ve been having nightmares. I was too freaked out to share them, until I read Sherman Alexie’s new poem Autopsy about his dream that his passport was bleeding. Thank you, master poet. For sharing your pain. I woke up...