A short poem about not belonging and wondering if I was adopted as a child. It's also about my new adopted recovery family. ADOPTED Twelve or thirteen years old: Nobody hears me. I don’t belong in my family. I wonder if I was adopted. I don’t fit...
Hello fellow co-worker. Hello fellow churchgoer. Hello fellow traveler. Hello potential friend. If I share my trauma with you, Will you hear me? Will you see my humanity? Will you hear my heart? Or will you analyze and...
Meet me when I wake up before my prayers so that I can have a smoke...Meet me at the coffee pot so that I can feel the coffee and tons of sugar glide down my throat...Meet me after breakfast while I put on my house and coat...Meet me at lunchtime instead of eating I...
To my fellow travelers: this month marks the tenth anniversary of my brother’s final decision; the incomprehensible decision to end his life. I wrote this poem three years ago and I’m sharing it now to honor my brother and to offer my heart to those experiencing...
White wall with a thin white shelf. on the shelf sits a handmade wooden doll and to her right, handwritten text on the wall reads,“My heart breaks for the girls we were.The women we are are the girls we were.”Sara Z.
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