A short poem written in my mother's voice, talking to me from heaven. Dear little Sammy, I think of you nowHow I managed to raise you I will never know how Although you were born into a world of deep shameI loved you and gave you your grandfather’s name There were...
When I was ten, my daddy-Monster carried me out of the Pacific Ocean, yet failed to rescue me. Ten years old:One decade of domestic violence.One decade of explosive terror –from daddy-Monster. My parents drive usto Southern Californiato visit relativesand enjoy the...
(This italicized text is me talking!) (This bold text is the piano talking!)A black piano with wrinkles in its dark finish, was in the house when I became conscious, able to have memories, hold onto thoughts, sequence my world in my mind.I loved this...
I can’t hear you, we’re so far apart. I don’t understand you; no common ground. In this place of anger, all I hear is judgement, blame and condemnation. I feel great pain, knowing I can’t hear you, and that you can’t hear me. The agony of not ...
To be seen means feeling recognized and accepted for who I amNo judgmentFreedom to be who I was always designed to beExpressing my uniqueness, talents, dreams, and charismaBeing my own Drag QueenA King or QueenWhatever my parts wanted to expressGoing with the flow of...
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