Type: Poem

Latest Rituals

Every journey in life leads into the unknown.
watercolor painting from the perspective of the middle of a river, with trees on the horizon
“We remember the sadness of death Yet we are blessed with life to hold the memory…”
hands holding a tiny seedling
“Only when you stand alone will you know who you truly are…”
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“We will weep through as many nights as we must…”
tents camped in the desert
“Who will I be / as this stormy year unfolds?”
big ocean waves in a storm
“I will teach you the melody of my Echa, together we will sit on the ground and mourn for the peace of Jerusalem.”
a person sits on a rock in the desert
also how dare I use such an antiquated, male-sprung, / power-overed, trite & treacly term? And I agree, yes, / how dare, how dare I? Well, I answer, I do. Dare.
woman in flowing red skirt silhouetted against a forest sunset
I walk the trail back to its origins / towards the slow pulse of life / flowing within contorted trunks / honey-colored limbs scarred by lightning
a very narrow trail is surrounded by tall thin trees
The power to bless is the power / to choose.
five swallows, one with wings outstretched, sit on a thin branch of a tree with small red leaves

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