Homage to Mary Oliver

Recoiling, still-swollen heart stitched up from past hurts rent in two again, my soul knew without prescription what it lacked, what would slake its anemic thirst. And so, four years ago, I carved out time to spend hours and days in the library nestled on a hill: its small, dark wood and brick interior teeming … Continue reading Homage to Mary Oliver


As a child, every two or three years my family would make the cross-country trek back to the land of our fathers. And mothers--they stand tall and powerful of influence in my family tree. My mother, who was bereft of a single relative (besides her own children) in the state we eventually called home, and … Continue reading Journeying