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Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.

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love

For You My Friend

I am posting this poem for an extraordinary and beautiful new friend.  You know who you are.  My heart and love are with you today.

Sono’s Death Poem

Don’t just stand there with your hair turning gray,
Soon enough the seas will sink your little island
So while there is still the illusion of time,
Set out for another shore.
No sense packing a bag.
You won’t be able to lift it into your boat.
Give away all your collections.
Take only new seeds and an old stick.
Send out some prayers on the wind before you sail.
Don’t be afraid.
Someone knows you’re coming.
An extra fish has been salted.

— Mona Santacroce

 

The Irishman

I don’t often write love poems.  I have written only a handful and they are all about one person. He is a man who has Ireland running through his blood and a heart that beats with a strength and rhythm that makes everyone around him feel safe.  He has faced grief and adversity, but has always persisted, always lived with a true voice and the courage to be exactly who he is.  He is the embodiment of kindness and generosity.  He brings laughter and pure joy into the world around him. He is at once brave and vulnerable, a man who takes care of everyone with gentle patience, and a boy who is delighted in the world of Doctor Who and Batman and video games.  He loves science and technology, isn’t afraid of the future and has a mind for building things.  He is a teacher and a scholar of life.  He is a friend and a strong shoulder to lean on.  He is my husband and my good fortune.  He is my champion, my safe space, my home.

Happy Anniversary My Love!

Embers

The thing with fire is that it is unpredictable.  An ember can become a rage of flames that devour hillsides and homes, a torrent of fear that reaches its fingers into the sky and covers the landscape in ash.  Fire doesn’t discriminate; it can’t be reasoned with or cajoled.  But, it can be contained, by the tireless bravery of fire fighters who battle an enemy that knows no mercy.  I am so very grateful for all of the men and women who have been fighting the fires that filled Los Angeles with smoke and fear; it is because of them that the beast has been quelled.

My parents are safe and the home that they have shared for 41 years is intact.  It was a terrifying few days; first waiting for them to evacuate and get to my apartment.  I was so glad to see them safe when they pulled into our driveway.  Then we waited for news about their house and for the announcement that they could finally return home. My parents are in their 80’s but they are strong, resilient and incredibly stubborn; when they left my apartment last night, they were pale with exhaustion, but so relieved to be going home.

Mortal

My poem, “Mortal”, was published in WildFlower Muse in March of 2016.  I am posting it today in honor of the anniversary of my brother’s death.

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