Despite their joy, Father's Day and Mother's Day exacerbate wounds. How does the motherless child feel while her classmates are making cards for Mom?
A poem on a Penn Station wall inspired my own poem about what I want, need, and hope for at this difficult moment.
We can live life with the focus on the inevitability of death... or we can live life with hope.
Life used to seem magical. I'd succeed against the odds and even against the facts. Can I regain some of that power?
Purim Sameach from your friendly neighborhood sacred feminine uprising!
I’m talking directly to the tiny little you who lives inside of you.
"Because I am totally nuts, but I can make it sound reasonably like a joke. It might even be a joke? I can't even tell myself anymore."
A story about adult bullying, a hilarious form of revenge, and a kind of epiphany.
A poem about my potential encounter with my deceased grandmother one Yom Kippur—and fear, doubt, mystery, and the mystical power of the sun.
