Speak to me about my grandma and I will tell you a story of love.

I still see her face peering out her kitchen window, hear her voice saying “I love you more,” feel her warm hands cradling my own.

Some days I am brave enough to face my grief, and I wonder how things might be different if we all shared the weight of it and honor its teachings. How might we treat one another? How might the word shift? If we all knew that each one of us is always fighting/resisting the courage it takes to be brave.

What might take center stage? Beneath the emails and projects and bills, aren’t we all wanting to sing? To paint? to hold one another and take turns saying “I love you, I love you, and nothing else really matters.”

—The heart of everything

How triumphant is the leaf in its final act?

Dancing towards the Earth

Challenging you to bear witness to its last breath

“See my glory and all I have done.

Don’t you dare look away.

I will not, I will not be forgotten.”

—You Must Remember

The silly truth of all of it is that I don’t know.

And neither does anyone.

None of us really know anything.

—Free yourself from the burden of knowing what comes next

I want to be devastated by the beauty of the world.

Let’s rid ourselves of empty clicks and chatter

and fall to our knees at the rivers edge.

Please.

Let me surrender to wildflower petals and moss.

PLEASE.

I BEG OF YOU

come away from that shackled desk,

your hopeless commute.

Let yourself be powerless in the face of holy wind.

Please.

Come away with me to the whispering woods

so that we may finally weave stories of what is right and true.

—The Great Escape