When I think of my dad, I often think of those small moments we shared. I remember holding his hand as we crossed a parking lot; my little hand only being able to grip around his thumb or a couple fingers. I remember dancing on his feet, barefoot in the living room. I remember being his “punkin.” I remember him standing, by himself, in the hall of my high school after my senior promenade. I remember him giving me away and dancing with me at my wedding, making sure that I was happy. He just wanted me to be happy. Yes, I remember the discipline and the disagreements, but it’s more gentle now.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him and pray for him. Today and everyday, I say, “I love you, Daddy. Thank you.”


Secret Pathway

This past Friday I had the privilege of speaking at my local Story Exchange in support of PASSAGES, Inc., a sexual violence advocacy organization. The theme for the evening was Secret Passages. I wrote and presented this poem with the intention of giving voice to thriving beyond survival. The stories shared were both tragic and inspirational.  I thank each speaker for their courage in sharing their personal story. For more information, including of how you can help, check out:

Secret Pathway

A secret pathway we travel
A mystery yet to be told
Proceed as our stories unravel
Hanging onto our souls, hoping not to be sold.

With divine permission we choose our way
Until overpowered by forces outside our own
Assigned the scars with no direction or clue
Now requires to escape the perpetual torment

Step by step, one strike at a time
Flexing muscles, healing heart
Necessary to navigate the upward climb
Innate survival directs the compass set to depart

Fighting fear, ignoring judgment
Learning to honor ourselves in renewal
From our strength we create a fresh settlement
On a secret pathway we travel

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