Sunday, October 26, 2014


Things have been deep and real around here for a little while now. I haven't shared my writing during it. All of our projects have halted. We've worked on new ones instead. I am working it out. I am writing about it. 

During this needed hiatus, where focus is in other places, I have been keeping my need to write going by developing characters for some non-fiction short stories I plan to share one day soon.

For now, I'll share this one that started as a character and became a poem. Something that reminds me that we all have something going on deep down underneath. And that's okay.


She has a sadness about her. The type of sadness that is 
deep and black and palpable. Thick and sticky like tar.
That doesn't wash away with rain or a clear blue day. 
It is what poets call sorrow, and what she calls consciousness.

Her smiles and clear-eyed existence can mask it for a while. Then the sorrow comes back in and she hides away until it passes. Until the tar can be covered over temporarily with white cotton and lace.

There was always something a little different about her. There was always a distance. She longed to be connected, to give and receive. The distance made it impossible and very few made the journey through it to sit beside her. Those few were rewarded with love and pain. With doubt and certainty. With truth and question. 
With tar and white cotton.

With Much Love and Warmth,


  1. Chris, this is really beautiful. Hugs to you friend, as you continue to work through all the deep and real things in your life right now.

    1. Tarissa, you are always so kind. Writing is therapeutic and sharing it is empowering. Thank you for reading and accepting. Hugs to you!

      P.S. "She" isn't me...just a representation.