these hands

Our hands come from our mothers and grandmothers.Whether worn or soft,They speak of the lives they were granted and the rights that they fought for.The creases in our skin tell stories in fading lines,Hands reaching out in offering,Pulling closer to hold, protect.And as we walk in our lives,Our backs, shoulders, are warmed by gentle, sturdy... Continue Reading →

endless bond

As my grandmother continues to transition from form to not,I feel inducted into the perspective of interconnection.Somehow, as I write and remember her,So many beautiful faces surface in mind of living human family.My mother said when her mother died that she became an orphan.But can one ever truly be motherless?We have all traveled here by... Continue Reading →

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