To the women in prison, I don’t know you. I don’t know your story or how you got here. And yet a part of me feels I know you already. My sense is it went down something like this: Something was taken from you. Violated, controlled, pushed into a corner, neglected, and/or abused, your sense … Continue reading A letter to the women in prison
All the things you didn’t see All the things you wouldn’t hear All the colors, sights, and smells That aren’t on the path You don’t know where you’re going You don’t know when you’ll get there All you know is, you have to go You have to go the way you don’t know At first … Continue reading The Path
sometimes writing a new story does not need new words just a new bed and old hands holding each other and breathing new air into old lungs, a new season of love springing from old bodies Photo by Étienne Beauregard-Riverin on Unsplash
