So this is a poet’s prayer. Hear me roar through the metaphors. For who I was is never again, and who I am is forever more.

Life is just a game of tennis; what you serve is what you get. It was a glorious morning playing tennis with my husband and children. I...

This is a letter I wrote for the woman I believe is my birth mother—on her birthday. It’s full of hope, honesty, and the ache of years apart

She took a step back, looked me up and down, and with a curled, aggressive sneer said, “You ain’t even my child!”

This blog is a testimony of truth and surrender in the midst of isolation and defamation.