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 | Jan 8, 2018 | Beauty, Gratitude, Here and now, Nature, Pain, Poetry, Sentience
I want you to celebrate yourself. Shake off your dust. Find fierce stones that speak to you hold them, gentle now, then drop them into rivers wrinkle your wide-eyed face to focus as they sink straight down oblivious to the current. Muck arrives through always-clear... 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...