They Keep Coming…

Wild Heart Scribe

I walked out of the bathroom into my bedroom and he was there, lying on the bed like he belonged there. My body was stricken with paralysis even as my mind skyrocketed into hyperdrive.

“I’m back,” he declared as though he expected me to throw confetti and blow New Year’s Eve party horns.

For some reason, his mother was lying beside him – they were lying on their stomachs, heads at the foot of the bed, propped up on their elbows watching my TV in my bedroom like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He stood suddenly and I told him he couldn’t be here and so we argued. I had to express my anger a bit and then capitulate. That was our usual pattern and he expected everything to be the same. To do anything else would heighten his attention to detail. I was trying to…

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I Choose Me

I resist the thought that what
I am is all I will ever be.
I resist the thought that the stake you
had in me claimed and killed my future.
I resist the bread of lies you force-fed me
and spew the crusts back at you.
I resist the bubble gum label you expect
me to chew until the flavor fades and I am
as stiff and bland as you want me to be.
I resist the temptation, and it is strong,
to surrender my lifeblood so you can
take another drink.
And then, just like that,
the tree bends down
to pay homage to the earth
as the tide rolls over and christens…
and I find myself no longer resisting you
but persisting in me.
So, roll on,
thunder ball,
clap somewhere else.
The direction of the rain has changed.

What I Learned From Men

This was written quite some time ago and I have found that the lessons keep coming…

Wild Heart Scribe

My Daddy, naturally the first man I ever loved, taught me more about betrayal than I wanted to know, everything I needed to know about restoration, and more than I have a right to know about the unconditional love of a father.

My sweet, little Grandfather taught me that fidelity does exist and that loyalty helps us co-exist. It was the example of my grandfather that gave me reason to believe that my hope of one day being loved was not the foolish dream of a young girl but the attainable expectation of a whole woman.

My old high school boyfriends—yes, even they taught me something. As a whole, they taught me to never consider myself special because I could stir desire in them. That’s what boys do—they want girls. I later found out that lesson can be applied to full grown men, too.

My ex-husband taught me that the…

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if i had known thAt time

was the last time

i would have held you a little tighter,

a lot loNger,

a little tighter

if i had known that time

was the last time

i woulD have buried my nose

into your hair

and breathed in

an abundance of youR innocence

so i’d always remember

if i had known that time

was the last time

i would have whispEred a

lifetime of answers,


and love, mostly love, into yoUr ear

if i had known

that time

would be the

laSt time








A Daddy, Too

In this, I have failed repeatedly. But today is a new day filled with possibility.

Wild Heart Scribe

Just a regular day at the bank with JG until the bank lady traveled down a seemingly innocuous road of questions.

Upon hearing that JG was the only girl of the family and the youngest, the bank teller asked, “Do you like being the only girl?”

JG replied softly, “No, I always want a sister…and a Daddy, too.”

My first instinct was to shush her. But is that really my first instinct? Or is it my conditioned response after a lifetime of accepting that feelings are to be kept quietly hidden, neatly tucked away?

She, in that moment, simply stated what was in her heart. Her heaviest desire came spilling out of her with ease from a mind not yet conditioned to be embarrassed by what the heart feels. Would I rather her share it or stuff it? Perhaps in the sharing, it lost some of its sting in her…

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A Step or Two Beyond Do Unto Others

Wild Heart Scribe

It is often said that we should treat others the way we ourselves want to be treated. I agree with that. However, I think we could at least equally benefit by treating ourselves the way we wish to be treated by others. If I regularly indulge in self-deprecating humor, how much easier do I make it for someone else to put me down? If all I give voice to are my faults and shortcomings, how soon before others also see me as far less than I truly am? If I often apologize for who I am, my very nature, how long before people are sorry they met me or worse… sorry forme?

On the flip side, if I recognize my intrinsic value without having to pretend I have no flaws to do so, how much more likely will others accept me as a complete person – one with flaws…

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Now & Later

Wild Heart Scribe

I want mine
now & later
in any flavor…
free is what
I most want
to be…
and so I will be…
my spirit is free
and then my
mind follows
and what has
kept me hidden
and stuck
is shattered
to bits
and then released
to die a
scattered death.
I release it…
wish you could hear me…
I release it…
Don’t think it’s
my fate
Can’t hold its
Won’t let it
so I forgive you
you don’t deserve it
but I do…
so I forgive you
for me…
for me…
and the taste
on my tongue
is the dance
of the free!

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I Will Walk

Wild Heart Scribe

I was feeling powerful when I wrote this yesterday, not so much today.  I will post it anyway and wait for the power to free my wild heart once again.

Where others have failed

I surely won’t.

I take the road

yet to be.

Not one worn by

the failed steps of those

who have gone before.

I may come after,

but whom do I follow?

Nary a soul –

I forge my own path


I dare anyone to follow.

No faded trails to hint the way…

No bridges built to span rivers unexpected…

No graffiti guide etched in bark.





through the

harsh, natural brush

finding bends and twists,

sudden drops and steep climbs

that make no sense…

And I will walk it to the end.

I slip over and under




limbs barring my path –

I slip over and under


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The Slip and the Groove

Wild Heart Scribe

Sometimes I slip and slide into the

grooves of well-worn static patterns

Canned speeches

slip from lips to sustain you…

 Smothering under the rote emotions

that slip and slide into me

I slip on the tune and beg you

to slide with me

but the melody hurts so you don’t

I try to hold you with arms

slipped into the sleeves of another time…

why do you slip me into that outdated dress…

I clutch and claw at you till we both

slip on the tick of time…

My slip…

Your trip

Together we could rip



from where we are

to where we were

and reality’s grip would loosen

and leave us in the

static groove…

The tear


wetting the groove

 letting us slip out of the static…

The best dance ever to be danced

slips in and out of silver shade

tripping the light so fantastic

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Claim Your Sky

Sometimes I need my past words to push me through my present moment. This is one of those times…

Wild Heart Scribe

Freezing hot periwinkle stars

fall onto my closed lashes

like fairy tale dust

in the boldest daytime dream

beckoning me to open

just open

and drink in the expanse of sky

spilling itself onto me

putting on a show for me

just to get my attention…

My attention?

Who am I?

You are the one

for whom you have waited

the one whom I have




and now what has been held

no longer needs to be

it clamors for you without constraint





you with the finest brush

so as not to miss a spot…

you are you

you are yours

you are Mine

the freezing hot periwinkle stars

have stood Our test of time

So, go on, claim your sky

claim your sky

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