Sweet wounded Flower Bird
Your wing so soft and Bloody
You only want your warm cozy nest
To clear your head and cuddle.

But your clock spins far to fast
And your heart begins to race.
Blood from your wounded wing
Spurts enlessly, no stop in sight.
Your head is muddled with fear, anger, and dread.

Oh, Sweet wounded Flower Bird
I have a vase for you
It's small and round and
Chrystal clear
It's water clean and cool.
Let me mend your bloody wing.
Just rest your wilting head
and know little Flower Bird,
Your life short or long,
that you are loved by one for sure
and your place is in his home.

So when your petals begin to fall
and your wings flap no more,
flower bird, you are my soul
and wound you I will no more.

This was a journal entry from this past September, just before I left for New Mexico.


Tonight, running, early twilight. Purplish yellow atmosphere. Early Autumn, my favorite time of year. My dog notices my nervousness at the late hour, running in the city in a scantly populated place, he no longer wants to stop and pee.

As I hear the goth kids, fresh from critical mass, sing their tragically unique anthems off in the distance, juxtaposed to the sound of ducks and geese calling as they begin thier journey to a warmer place, the age old unchanged call of both, I realize something great; we are not here on this earth to posess.

My dog teaches me with his body language that he dosen't like running at night. I learned that today, but then too I realize that my husband is not here to fill that deep black void at the center of my gut. Consiquently, I am not here to make him grow up. We are here to teach eachother, so long as we are brave enough to listen.

Like learning something so simple, so small and yet so big, from my dog just by paying attention to his body language I begin to understand something much greater about my husband and why he is the one for me to go through my life journey with; I have many lessons to learn from him. I learned one very recently and that was the lesson about the deepness of his love for me.

Funny how purple air and a skittish dog can congure great emotional shifts and remind me just how much my husband loves me. It's a wonderful feeling and one of the most frightening feelings too, so much so that I have on occasion wanted to flee. But this is where and when I must practice true fearlessness and face that big/small scary thing inside that has helped create the great black void at the center of my gut.

Who knows where we will end up, he and I and our family of misfits, but we will be together, and changed and together, and learned and together, and wiser for the pain and together, and loved and together. And God willing we will continue to fight for the courage to let our hearts truely learn from one another.