Textures 

Textures

Tell me stories

Shapes in the paint

Reach out

Like the dead

Demanding to be

Heard

Remembering: a haiku about suicide’s fallout

His smile in my mind
A friend’s son just took his life
These clouds are broken

My heart is heavy today. We can be so cruel sometimes, especially with ourselves. If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts please know you are not alone and that there are people who will help.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline

Call 1-800-273-8255
Available 24 hours everyday

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Lessons I Learned About Deserts This Winter

Seattle’s winter taught me something new: deserts hate me. In the deepest cold of February, as the upper left coast shivered in a frigid, deeply embrace, my skin burned. Cracking, peeling, bleeding, the lack of moisture in the air brutalized me. Far more painful that I remember.

Over the years I dreamt of journeys through the Southwest. Wandering the desert canyons, a soundtrack featuring R. Carlos Nakai, perhaps tied to a writer’s retreat, I explore the zen within the arid land. Tranquility filling my soul.

Now I fear my skin crumbling off my bones. Needing to bathe in moisturizer. Not the most pleasant imagery.

Perhaps my mind exaggerates. It often plays such tricks on me. The dream still lingers. No harm, I guess, in holding that. Maybe the tranquility compensates for the damaged skin.

Such randomness within in my mind.

Unfamiliar with R. Carlos Nakai’s music? His native flute music carries me deep within, speaking to my depths.