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This poem capture a woman and reflect her back to us.

He’s still here.  I’m calling the police On your brother, father to your nephew and niece Who is mentally ill, drugged-out, the homeless...

There once was a very old house Of 3000 feet squared A sweet little yard and a mighty big tree That reached the clouds, the children said...

I had to forgive a person who wasn’t even sorry. She said my name Imbuing blame Much to my shame.

After an hour of relentless pursuit, Nunnie finally caught up with Simi, who had at last tired of running.

The girls were there, five in all, Giggling, snarking, being 13 The house was set, the games were planned All was well in birthday-land.

“Chasing butterflies?” Nunnie looked appalled. “Do you know how undignified that sounds?” “Oh, come on,” Simi pleaded, her tail wagging

The Lament - A Poem Every time you talk to me i sit quiet, seem to stare like I don't hear, like i don't care...

Johanna didn’t know who he was. But he joined them at the park one day about a week after her tenth birthday. 

Suddenly, without much ceremony, in Sept. 1983, Cindy packed Johanna up and drove her to Dan and Brenda’s house...and left her there.

By the time I ran out of gas on the side of the highway in the Ontario mountains...according to google maps there was no gas for 40 miles...

Johanna was in heaven, and in hell.  They went up the Empire State Building, all the way to the top, “Just like in 'that movie!'"

She raised her voice to a shout, unnecessarily “Can you hear me now?” she enunciated airily.

“Hey, it’s the truck that plays music!” Johanna cried.

Simi sat on the soft blue rug by the window, her fluffy white tail curled around her paws.

Traveling solo on a journey like this is both exhilarating and daunting.

I thought my body was stronger than it was, literally. I went to stand on the bench...& failing, flailing, to the sodden concrete ground...

Almost 50 years exactly, I left my cozy home & set out in my dad's hitchhiking footsteps from Seattle to Nova Scotia. In December.