Writing

i always feel pressured into

being grateful for the biggest things i can

which to me always sounds like i'm shouting for forgiveness

instead of gratitude. i never get to say i'm grateful

The days I wake up

and fall asleep

and move through the world

tired and clumsy,

it is hard to know the truths

of what I am grateful for.

Those days,

I am grateful not for winter,

In the car

After dark

With the headlights shining

On the wet pavement

Like stars on the ground

I curl up in my seat

And the news is on

Voices fill the car

Not my own

Not my dads

The stone wall upon which he sits is crumbling, rough and moss covered, but it is home. 
He stares up at the migrating geese, their honks loud and clear in the crisp air. 

November 6th, 2024 

Today my grief is loud 

She is shaky and terrified 

I hold her gently in my arms 

We stood at the entrance of a new age. 

Past a garden of all we had ever known,

We found the gate.  

Past what we were meant to know and created to be.