a glance made across the room

an hour in your gaze over drinks

more hours in your arms held tightly

those not mine taken

messages of desire and tender care

intimate conversation shared across miles

a yearning for that not found with others

those not mine, yet taken

nights of passion spent ’til exhaustion

hello kisses lost to goodbyes

a child conceived between those hellos

those not mine, yet taken

deep desires for more left broken promises

that left a heart stolen to lust and loss

those not his broken

those not hers stolen



Endless love ends
It takes a chasm so deep
That divides the world
Into the before and after

Before the pain
And after the suffering
She remains still
Still standing, still breathing



A shift in axis

She lied the day she said her cells had been awakened by his touch.
The moment their bodies met, face to face, skin to skin,
There was a shift in her cells. They had not just been awakened.
Their composition felt as though it had been merged with his.
Seismologists probably have a word to describe such a shift.
For her she just knew that as she looked in his eyes and felt his breath on her neck,
She felt suspended in the galaxy, supported only by the absence of gravity.
It was not a spark that once ignited extinguishes with a slight breeze.
The energy between their bodies and gazes was palpable and nearly visible.
If the earth’s axis can shift, so then can a body’s cells reorganize.
She lied the day she held back her tears afraid of what her body already knew.


A shift in axis


Deep blue through to his soul
Her gaze locked in, capturing his
Each cell of her body awakened
As if from a long winter’s rest

The smooth tips of his fingers
Reached for hers across the table
Soon their legs would meet
Feeling the energy pass between

Words charged with passion
Gently shared pieces of their lives
Reflected in the silky red wine
A carefully chosen chapter at a time

Goodnight turned to midnight
A journey of caresses and kisses
Left her looking for his gaze
In the morning’s light



Heart in a Latte

All over this world today and here in Dublin, there are people riding trains, sipping coffee with friends, helping strangers, delivering fresh fish to restaurants, walking to school, holding their child’s hand, opening doors for another, making a heart in a latte, and all other ways that the people of this world seek to connect, to serve, to love, to celebrate, to protect, and to bridge our humanity to one another. These are just some reflections on my journey to a new place, with new people, and new paths. New to me, yes. But old nonetheless and well traveled by those who’ve come before and will come again. We may see much divide in our paths, but stay on your path and let it bridge you to others through your own “heart in a latte.”


Heart in a Latte

Day of the Dead


Tomorrow we honor the dead. Those who passed this year and all souls gone too soon. Last month during pregnancy and infant loss awareness month I participated in a special project, Capture Your Grief. Last year, that project was my window to sharing my daughter’s life and death with those I know and love. The project helped me so much to process my grief. I think it is a daily process, but perhaps more a state than a process these days. I will honor and grieve for my daughter, Alexa Jane, forever. If grief is a process, is there a beginning and an end? I think, rather that grief is the state of love for those whose bodies left and souls remained.

I might not have managed a post for every day of the month for the Capture Your Grief project, but I no longer worry that is a sign that I am forgetting Alexa Jane. I talk to her every day. Not posting a blog is not going to change that. Her soul is intertwined with mine and no amount of written words, abundant or few, will change that.

Day of the Dead