You are five. Your father tells you he will kill himself. But not today. You listen every night, with an impeccable concentration, for any noise, any silent scream, muffled breathing, just in case. Not tonight. Until one day you pack this all inside you and stop caring – you’re older now, stronger. On the surfaceContinue reading “Bleeding stones”
"May my body be for what it was intended: an expression of Your grace. And what small ways I make with this poetry – what songs and friendships I form, what migrations and ripples I disturb in the world – may they have something of Your signature on them"
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