The Fire


I won’t talk about the fire
when I’m in it
rage, inferno
you. won’t. burn. Me.

I don’t focus on the fire
all consuming
to dust I turn
don’t. think. Me. dead.

I cannot run from the fire
steel is forged here
sharp, steady, blade
you. can’t. wield. Me.


The Magician

May my imagination outplay my mind.

The ability to see beyond what is currently manifested, into the unknown realm of possibility, to create beauty and pull it from the ether, even in the midst of the most undesirable of situations, is the pure genius of the magician.

~ Ah, these things and greater still, shall you do.

A Savage God

The body becomes so animalistic
when the mind goes wild.
Those strange imaginings embolden the beast,
and all is laid to waste where creation once reigned.
Death always yields to the beauty that follows destruction,
and what was once a savage can just as easily be a god!

Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women

I am excited and honored to have two of my poems selected for publication in this upcoming anthology.

Untamed Eden was written out of a sense of loss, and a longing to escape from the people-pleasing version of myself that I had created in order to be loved and accepted within my surroundings. It is a micro-story of coming into one’s own power and realizing that society’s many false narratives are nothing more than man-made constraints designed to prevent the awakening of the God within.

The Ravening took many years to write. That vision played out very slowly as I experienced it happening in real-time. I watched myself hold back, time and time again, from using the power of my own voice for fear that I would destroy familial bonds. What I did not realize was that by doing that, I was allowing the softer, more sensitive side of myself to be annihilated. When I finally came to see it, I felt as though I had completely betrayed myself, and it was at that point that the sheer anger I felt became all-consuming. I either had to set myself free or be killed. It was a humbling and humiliating realization, yet at the same time, deeply empowering.

I want to thank the editor and publisher, Gabriela Marie Milton and Ingrid Wilson for choosing my poems, and for the hard work that went into the creation of this wonderful anthology. I also want to thank Nick Reeves for the beautiful cover art. It is a profound representation of the work contained within the pages. I am extremely grateful to have been included in this wonderful collaboration.


There is a way this soul knows to travel
with closed eye and opened mind
I can see across the divide
below- the many pains of blame
lay like stones built up between us
and you puffed up with pride on the other side
There is a plank of indignation in your eye
and me bereft as you point to mine in blindness
as though you had found your innocence in my guilt

My Own Creations

I fought for the sinners’ death,
to the cross I found myself bound.
Then I fought for the life of the saint,
and was buried in secular ground.
Those scales both tipped in my favor,
depending on which path I chose,
yet I realized there could be a balance,
so out of those judgments I rose.
I sat with Myself in the silence,
dissolving myself in that space,
by becoming the bridge to the Oneness,
my sight was restored to pure grace.
Now I walk the path of no one,
recreating a new self each day,
dashing down My Own Creations,
whenever they get in My Way.

A Dream Not Forgotten

There was a golden age in which men dreamed themselves to Be…. More.
Yet, in this time, we have dreamed a sinners dream and I have watched us Being… Less.
I hear the jangling discord of our nation.

Where is the beautiful symphony of brotherhood? I Remember Who We Are
and I will not settle here in the mire that we’ve made
knowing Dreams await us All!

Put down your heavy burdens and your loads. Be Not Afraid,
and take up the yoke of This New Thing! March to a New Age as
our Freedom is bound – each to the next!

Be the Love that You Sow and watch as others put on your courage
that we might take up arms and Embrace! Only this will cause the crumbling of worlds
made by smaller men.

Let not the dripping of violence from wicked lips stir bitterness within
for surely Love can hew out of the mountain of hatred a stone of hope
with nothing but the force of the Spirit!

To our salvation let us march onward pressed by the creative suffering of every race
and every Equal Soul that paid a price along the way and
let us join at the table of brotherhood Dreaming Like Kings!

Be Still

To stand firm and still
within the perceptions
that others hold of you
maintaining a steadfast
posture in silent strength
in the current of their will
is the surest way to break
yourself free from that
illusion they hold of you

Challenge Your Beliefs

People do not see you as you are
They project onto you visions of themselves
And then they either accept or reject you based on
Their ability to accept or reject those aspects of themselves

Be careful of your judgments, they are sign posts that always point back to you. If you are wise you will learn to read them clearly, and you will know what adjustments your soul is asking you to make. Your strength lies in your perception, which is under the control of your choices, which are made based on your thoughts, which flow right out of your beliefs. If you can get to the heart of your beliefs and challenge them, you will learn the magic of changing your world.


I could see it there in the weave,
each stitch its own little strength,
standing tall and resolute in the row
as people often do, unbeknownst
when the tattering happens, hostility
spilling over and ripping the thread,
threatening the integrity of the Whole,
as the fabric of society suffers the assault.
It is often at this time that the Weaver
comes and carefully pulls at the string,
and all those swirls of color unravel,
revealing that the illusion of a legion
was hiding the reality of just – One.

~ Legion is the lie. We are all God here.