The love it held
When we pulled up the steep driveway of my grandparents’ old house, I was overcome with tears of nostalgia and tears of loss for the love that this space once held. My beloved Oma and Opa had spent 35 years of retirement in this mountainside home. All of my life I’ve known them here, and…
Holy Saturday
Holy Saturday, The place for bleakness, twisted mourning, black. I like this day, today, How it holds permission to wallow and be in the dark, To wander in the twisted depths. Today I am low, I am in the earth, I am unbreathing I have been buried alive by the blind of this world They…