Type: Poem

Every journey in life leads into the unknown.

“We remember the sadness of death Yet we are blessed with life to hold the memory…”

“Only when you stand alone will you know who you truly are…”

“We will weep through as many nights as we must…”

“Who will I be / as this stormy year unfolds?”

“I will teach you the melody of my Echa, together we will sit on the ground and mourn for the peace of Jerusalem.”

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.

I walk the trail back to its origins / towards the slow pulse of life / flowing within contorted trunks / honey-colored limbs scarred by lightning

The power to bless is the power / to choose.

You offered to walk with me around Queen Anne Hill, holding my hand / You offered to take me out again. / What was the meaning of these offerings? /