We can easily speak the narratives as to why we can't be happy in the standing room only of parts of our stories. There are moments when the pain has been written as a dull ache behind a smile and others where colors replaced suffocating words. And still other...

We have all felt the need for places to find happiness in, but that concept has merely given us reasons for why the landscape is more important than we are and why our homes are so unfriendly to live in. And that has been our knowing, where shooting our shot at being...

Hope is ours to dance new lines onto the pages of the tomorrows but sometimes the past poetry on the inside comes along to say that we are deceiving ourselves and so we find that: We can't change the shape of our homes because there is no retirement for the lack of...

For flowers, the path from seeds to sprouts to blooms to seeds and then debris, is the nature of their stories that never hold the promise of becoming. They push through the resistance of the soil and ever-changing weather as well as the possibility of being defeated...

It's different reading in black and white and living in colorful frames. It's different being bound for hope and stopping because it looks dissimilar. It's different being in this moment and aligned with where time has stood still. It's different needing the biggest...

Somewhere in yesterday's air lives the voice of the unkindness that brings with it all that is gray, all that wasn't, all that is regret and all that is war no matter where we roam. It uses sabotaging language to keep our bags overflowing.   It turns tries...