Start packing, we’re leaving next week. I was fourteen when I watched my home shrink and disappear from the round window of a cramped plane. Friends, music band, teachers, family, home, fields, mountains, grandmother, streets, language, dog – all left behind, becoming smaller, and disappearing as I trudged with a heavy suitcase. My face wasContinue reading “my home hurts”
"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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