Soulful Reclamation

I’ve been meaning to share some more of my poetry but I keep putting it off. This one was written with a loved one in mind, though it could also apply to myself. when you find yourself living out a societal role, instead of living for you.

Soulful Reclamation

Lost and wandering through the valley of doubt

the mountain of Solitude looms large

I scale the face of that frightening place

now is the time to take charge!


The timid creature grows fiercer by night

as the flames of her fire glow

She breaks through the chains of the sorrowing plight

to sing the song of her soul.



I Want a Girl Who Reads

The first time I heard poet Mark Grist perform the poem I Want a Girl Who Reads, in this video from YouTube, I proceeded to listen to it several times in succession. Not only did I instantly connect to the poem itself and the sentiment behind it, but I was entranced by the way he performed it. I say “perform” and not “recite” because it’s the performance that really brings it home for me.

It’s a poem but he’s not just saying words, he’s telling a story. and how he tells that story is key: the way he lingers on some words and speeds past others, how the  awkwardness is conveyed at the beginning but then morphs into adoring smiles and respectful passion that we can feel as well as hear and see, the shifting gaze as well as the hand movements that emphasize his points. It makes me feel proud to be a girl who reads, validated. and just a bit naughty…


My Heart’s in the Highlands

The recent talk of Burns Night celebrations has me missing Scotland. Before I visited, I dreamed of this poem someday becoming true, and now that it has…I feel like I found a part of myself there but left a different part behind.


My Heart’s in the Highlands

by Robert Burns

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer –
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North
The birth place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high cover’d with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forrests and wild-hanging woods;
Farwell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart’s in the Highlands, whereever I go


Dreams of Christmas

Once upon a time, newly married, I spent a Christmas far from home for the first time. My husband and I had spent a lonely Thanksgiving on our own but decided we could not do the same for Christmas; we just had to splurge for those two plane tickets “back home” to celebrate Christmas with our families! I wrote a poem that year to include in all of the Christmas cards, illustrating how the holiday had changed for me but also what it meant to be going home for the holiday:

Dreams of Christmas

Memories fill us
  of Christmas’ past
Presents and wrapping,
  aside they were cast
Cookies and candy
  tales of delight
Knowing that Santa
  would visit that night
But what Christmas meant then
  is now slipping away
For we have no more toys
  nor red reindeer sleighs
We have not one stocking
  hung by the fire
Or plans of snow forts
  and wars to conspire
Still tossing and turning
  asleep in our beds
Instead of those sugar plums
  filling our heads
Our minds, they are dreaming
  in magical tones
For now they are full
  of just coming home.