I’m preparing to go off all social media for I don’t know how long, and before I do I want to offer this reflection on Mother’s Day. Our bodies spend so much time being talked over; birthing bodies, children’s bodies, sexual bodies, specialized bodies, bodies that are told and shown…

Remothering: A Need but not an Antidote I am writing the poem before the words while the words are still arriving. I am holding the crying babies and the crying inner children, both as they choke on the air on its way out of them. I am raging while my…

Nonpracticing isn’t Faithlessness A Lenten Poem for those Exiting Institutions There were no ashes on my forehead as my arms soothed a hiccuping baby. Interrupting cries were our lullaby; wombs and not sacraments, skin to skin rather than dust to dust, “The Fire Next Time” as liturgy . What if…

For mothers who are deciding how they will be mothered. My mom and I are not close. I don’t trace my history in her palm or search for safety in her lap. I feel her love, but I don’t call her home. Maybe if she’d been my grandmother I’d feel…

As a writer I go in and out of seasons of writing every day, and have been in a quiet period. When I root into my emotional honesty, I can’t write as often. …

When do we share depth? The inspiration for the blog came from a conversation I had with the program director of my masters program. After meeting me and speaking to me briefly they acknowledged, “You’re an obvious candidate for this cohort, but I’ve got to tell you…I’m worried you think…

A Series Continuation I have spent too many hours of my life in meetings. Some though, stand out to me vividly regardless of how much time passes. One of those meetings includes a high school principal, and every member of his administration and counseling staff. Specifically, an older white, male…

A Series Introduction I want to start this blog with a story. Picture a children’s gym open for free play. There is an open room of gymnastics equipment, and it’s full of preschool aged kids running and climbing and their caregivers on the sidelines. I am one of those caregivers. …

A freedom I have experienced in not working full time for an institution is space to share more of my writing publicly. I started blogging just about two and a half years ago, but recently I’ve been blocked. Not blocked from writing, but blocked from writing for outside audiences. In…