The beach was broken. There wasn’t much of a shore to explore At least at first... Further on the path Around the bend And through a mangrove forest There was some sand for my toes. And waves to rinse away All the residue that has been clinging To every step I take, weighing down Thought, …
The past calls to me, but it is like the siren's call; deadly. It urges me to hold on go things. The objects which in turn sing my name; yet these items straddles me with their weight. They threaten to limit my future: emotional, physically and financially. This past weekend, I ventured into the confines …
Continue reading Tossing the junk; cleansing the past (An Update)
Lucinda Rose 