day 173

the burden of rage is a gift i’ve been given, from a father too wounded to think of another. though, i have muffled, the anger inside me, i know i have given some of it too. we parents aren’t perfect, we feel all the pain of parents before us and our children…

day 172

as i stand taller in the shoes i have chosen and embrace the self i have become, i walk without knowing where i am going but finally accepting from where i have come. 6.22.17

day 171

the morning is soft, the sun still gentle, forgiving. i sit in a quiet house eagerly devouring the silence like a forbidden fruit. all are asleep, perhaps dreaming, without desire for more. no struggle for my attention, nor needs to fulfill. i simply sip my bitter coffee, guide my pen, and relax….

my girl (day 170)

a smile so sweet it stings your tongue; she looks at you with sapphire eyes hypnotic innocence of the impact her beauty has. as she grows she lengthens tall and lean graceful like a gazelle, with the ferocity of a feral cat whose aggression hides a deeper pain of abandonment. surrounded by…

fathers (day 169)

on a day for fathers, there are none, in my world. no stubble chin, strong arms, baseballs thrown, hugs that lift you off the ground… larger than life, always safe, invincible, but not here. 6.18.17