I think there 
was never
a flower 
who bloomed,
and didn’t know
it had a right
to be beautiful. 
And never 
a bird
who sang clear,
and doubted that
it should. 
And never 
a tree
who stood it’s ground,
and thought for
a second 
it didn’t belong. 
And that 
at the end 
of the day,
everybody is doing 
a whole lot better 
than they 


There are the truths

that you know
and the truths 
that you only
find out 
through the living. 
Like love
and loss. 
What it feels like
to be reborn to hope
each time you 
look up at the 
Or what it means 
to offer yourself to
the altar of the past, 
Hoping this time
your sacrifice
will heal the flesh
of yesteryear. 
There are the truths 
that you know
and the truths
that you only 
find out 
through the living. 
That give themselves
to you for 
And though I don’t
always like what is found
in the living,
the truth I know is,
I should like
to taste
it all. 
Even if bitter. 
And find sweet hope
with each
new sky. 


I had stopped writing,

in the way I once had. 

And for awhile I wondered

where the words had gone,

until I realized this silence

was a golden sunset 

of goodbye to the way

things once were. 

Instead I sat in quiet dusk.  

Saving my breaths,

gathering my words,

so when the time came

I could speak myself

into new beginning

and sing my wings,

once more.