Beginner’s Mind

I hover in time,
Hands pressed
On the pulse of air,

Fear clouds time’s weight,
Like ink in the water,
And I struggle to own
That I’m blind.

For the ink to settle.
For time to pass.

Do not thrash,


Sleeping Son

My sleeping son is folded into my lap, face turned so the sweat along his hairs and the darkness of his lashes shine up at me. He couldn’t nap in his bed, his cough frightening him.

Silence. Sunlight from the window. Warmth of my son. The windows of my soul swing open.


Balancing on her belly,
a boat of baby fat,

a red truck,
a monkey,
inserted with a

The gums
and drools
have no fear
or shame,

as with squints of surprise,
she attacks the new textures.

I turn towards my fears,
new textures to my hands.

I hope I can be as lion
as you.

The Blessing

Sometimes life is too much. And then the blessing is that you can’t afford to hold on to self-defeating solutions, those messy, draining moments that you’ve endured for the sake of the status quo. You must let go of those things that hurt you. You are forced to set yourself free.


When in distress, try listening to your fingertips instead of your thoughts. The warmth of slowly folding laundry can offer a beauty, truth, and renewal that our spiraling thoughts cannot.

In the Corners

Some days I can only find peace in the corners and gaps that dimple the elbows of chaos. Yet, somehow, at the end of the day, those little gaps allow me to stare up my Goliath of chaos and say, “Yes, even you have been my friend today.” And we walk on together in stillness.

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