A quiet home for the truths I carry—the ache, the beauty, the sacred ordinary.

A meditation on forgetting and remembering, wandering and homecoming, the quiet grace of being human and finding beauty again in what has always been before our eyes.

A quiet poem about shared wonder, sacred seeing, and the ache to be truly known. For anyone who’s ever pointed at beauty and whispered, “Do…

In the chaos of a summer season, when exhaustion hung heavy and grace felt far away, a stranger’s voice broke through. Nearly a decade later,…

I planted wildflowers today, not with joy, but with sorrow heavy in my heart. I let the tears fall—wanted them free, just as I had…

Today, I will not call you “Tuesday.” I will not dress you in yesterday’s name. I will meet you with open palms, as if you…

A Morning Offering Would you think me strange if I told you that most mornings, before I even turn into the parking lot, my heart…