“Trauma doesn’t have to speak for us to see it is present. It announces itself in abandoned decorations from another season. It whispers through the holes of broken toys. It screams from stickers slapped on doors.”

“Trauma doesn’t have to speak for us to see it is present. It announces itself in abandoned decorations from another season. It whispers through the holes of broken toys. It screams from stickers slapped on doors.”
Making a New Year’s Resolution lost its appeal for me years ago. For me, resolutions feel confining but imagining feels freeing. In the second half
I wrote this in response to someone asking me what I think happens when we die. Certain pieces of this image are in fact based
by Desirée Uhrich Something happened to me and I will never be the same. You know what happened, Lord. I don’t need to write it down. But
by Karen Martin Kepner God, you saw me. I got out of the car and put on my mask. I opened the back gate of
by Julie Martin Hutson, In Memorium The ground gapes, but only slightly, to receive this small one It is as though the ground were a