Comfort no longer comes from community occupying a space of isolation but instead must be found in the silence within rituals soothe us through the empty hours lifting our hearts along the way - Caroline A. Slee
poetry
Fugue #MondayBlogs
Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com Fugue The subject is introduced in a solitary voice seeking its flight from the everyday a slender thread shaky in the pull easily broken and easily missed but strengthening in resolve strengthening in numbers a thread become a ripcord in the flight and the rush the subject becomes … Continue reading Fugue #MondayBlogs
Cocoon
Thoughts on the Desiderata
Vitality
We breathe and we push into the next chapters restoring ourselves and healing old wounds finding identity once more our colors bloom true standing against the sun a sort of hope in full force after hours of dreaming to find some comfort to protect us from the knife sharp edges we live, we exist we … Continue reading Vitality
The Unanswered Question
It's never just the single unanswered question but a stream of wonderings that flow through my mind during those witching hours that see me awake and thoughtful but who can answer what will never be spoken except to empty rooms and silent stairs I wait for an answer that will never come left on my … Continue reading The Unanswered Question
The Universe Shifts
the flowers reclaim the space that is their own thriving in the sun what was dormant returns revived, but slow to wake flowing like water to heal the souland the universe shiftsthe stars align life blooms fully against all odds as we close out the noise take a deep breath and step into the new … Continue reading The Universe Shifts
Comfort
Comfort We treat grief like an injury as if six weeks could heal us instead we need that long convalescence the comfort of soft things the warmth of home the routines that bring us calm grief does not know an end because love does not die so we wrap ourselves in comfort creating our own … Continue reading Comfort
Blood and Mud
Blood and Mud The lines are not clean no clear space between the black and the white but a muddy chaos rising in the blood talking heads would tell you there is one sole path one sole faith to guide every step denying the many names of gods turning their backs on empathy and love … Continue reading Blood and Mud
Blind Mountain
Blind Mountain The proverbial mustard seed did not transform the hatred of hearts into anointed souls though it could have given half the chance The mountain still stands unmoved, impossible for what they profess as love has been a curse a civil war between neighbors rather than the sole commandment They speak hatred and preach … Continue reading Blind Mountain
As Pure As… #MondayBlogs
We seek the driven snow that blinding white of grief and purity before the turn in weather before the greys of sleet the world unmarked by human steps we rest in the silence of a world muffled in cold blooming into ice and frost - Caroline A. Slee