It felt
on the wind

It sounded
wind chimes
banging crazily
the leafless
lifeless trees

a change
in perception
is the only way
to survive

She stepped
into the wind
and felt her hair
whip around her head
in a mad frenzy
that was
no longer there

on the wind
turned into
soft incantations
passionate invocations

as she let
the magic
of silence
take her


I married a man

I married a man
sixteen years ago


One day I left him

He let me go
and waited
and rescued me
over and over again

I’m dying
or fighting death
with more death

And I wonder
about Love
and constancy
and patient

I told a few people
who remember me
that sometimes
I think the true healers
are those
who can hold our hand
in silence

I’m tired
I’m tired a lot now

But there is a man
who never lets go
of my hand

And there’s a kind of
magic in that





She was caught
in the act

of placing
hesitant foot
on the ground
beneath her

when she found
what was once
soft and springy
was now hard
and unforgiving

Her heart
broke a little



It Snowed Today

It snowed today

I danced
with dogs

Until the afternoon
claimed me

The nice man
with his litany
of risks
and risk assessments
and no way to know
if I will survive
the cellular event
or the not quite cure

It’s a numbers game
breast cancer

I have part of a breast
a missing nipple
and a tiny
little thread
of hope

It snowed today

I let myself
into the purity
of white

and forgot
the heaviness
of not knowing


Finding yourself between the pages of a book…

“The shadow past is shaped by everything that never happened.” ~ Anne Michaels

My therapist gives me assignments. Sometimes poems to write and sometimes books to read.

We talk a lot about my cancer diagnosis these days. There aren’t many people that can bear talking about it. My thoughts and feelings have reached a crashing crescendo of intensity. Yesterday she said when you are faced with your mortality in the way I am, the sense of time just falls away. You are left exposed and raw. So I don’t talk much. I think and feel… quietly.

Yesterday I was told to read this book. “I think you will find yourself in its pages,” she said. It’s another kind of grace, I think.


Why Creative People Sometimes Make No Sense – Matthew Schuler

100 Days of Sunshine

photo cover
Photo by Sophia Alexis

Are you a Creative type? Do you ever feel misunderstood? If you said yes to both, then have a look at this article: Why Creative People Sometimes Make No Sense

If this sounds familiar to you, then you are very well aware of how hard it is to explain to someone all your complexities, all the parts of you that make you, you. It’s impossible. Creative types get it, other don’t. So I have a solution for, print this out & hand it out to every new person you meet. You can begin with this: Hi, I am ______ & I come with a manual.

I wish you best of luck my creative friend!

You should also keep in mind that not everyone will get you or like you, and that’s ok. Those who stick around, will get to see the real beauty inside you. Those…

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Dixie, the Wonderdog, turned 13 yesterday!

Starting my second week of trying to survive the Aussie Flu and I managed to infect the Wonderspouse. Happy Wednesday, all!