Permissions of Breath

What happens to the heart when the walls come closing in? When the thunder makes one hide amidst the shadows? Just breathe. Give yourself permission to just…simply…breathe.

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Dreams Don’t Die with Motherhood

A little notebook sits on the back, left corner of a small, brown table in the tiny kitchen of my cottage on the Dutch Caribbean Island of Saba. No matter how many times I spray and wipe down the wooden surface, a thin film of “too many chaotic dinners” remains. I reach for this journal,…

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I Was Born Aboard the Titanic

I was born aboard the Titanic many years ago. The ship that “even God himself cannot sink” according to its builders. What Man has pieced together, let nothing put it under – the cold North Seas.

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I Am My Own

“I am not chewed up, spat out bubblegum” I am not fine china chipped by his touch now sitting on the thrift store shelf. I am not a porcelain tea cup filled with saliva from mouths of boys for whom I willingly opened my legs. I am not plucked petals of a rose trampled by…

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Individuation

I keep returning to the girl in the grave. Gray and without breath. With armor to protect her heart and masks to wear for any occasion. She knows the intrinsic ways of each role she is expected to play. I resurrect her when I fear love. She knows how to get through this life.

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Discovery

I will not make my children be second-hand owners of their spiritual lives Itching and squirming in it-fitting hand-me-down values, Tripping over hems left long to conceal all things and restrict the feet from wandering, Suffocating under high collars drawn up to keep the throat and it’s expressions muffled in subservience masquerading as respect.

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