Last night I lay quite still for hours in my bed with a stomach ache. Too queasy to rise, I couldn't silence the news howling. 

A little rest during darkness before an alarm woke me. I turned off the news and when my eyesight cleared the big pink explosion of dawn rattled me. I walked outside, stood under its shattering glow. The grass iced my bare feet. I kept standing for the purpling of my skin.

In the woods a snowy cattail asked me to bend down, see where it had fallen - been tossed? Torn, broken beautiful.

In the dry swamp, berries were bright with cheer, for the birds, for winter, this fuel for flight.

Suzi will not go toward home unless she is sure I will follow. And yes, I always will.

After my walk, my workshop begins. We make a place for words, for the power of writing; we make a space and time to share passions and peace, turmoil and truth. We offer each other permission: say what must be said. We must listen each other's hearts out of silence.

All text and photos copyright 2016, Kelly DuMar