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Sages and Pages
Writing until it makes sense
Sages & Pages
Writing Until It Makes Sense
A mix of creative writing and reflective pieces on topics like family, identity, adoption, and race.
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Favorite Pieces
A piece reflecting on race and definition of self.
A prose piece on my adoptive mother's passing.
A prose piece on childhood, motherhood, and well, responsibility.
A personal essay about developing my racial identity as a mixed race adoptee.
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Newest Additions
A poem about loving a heart made complicated by life. So, you know, everyone's.
A poem about the beauty hidden in winter.
A prose piece about life, choices, and death.
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The Path Before Me
There are people who, after a pivotal event or through some internal insight, make drastic changes in their lives. As though one day...
Going Back to the Beginning
Originally this blog was private and just for myself. It was my spiritual outlet to work out what I believed and what I didn't as I began...
Piecing Together
It started with crying. At least that is my first conscious memory, the terror I felt when trying to go to sleep as a toddler. Nap times...
The Steps Don't Matter
"You don't dance enough." She said as she took me in her arms. "You're too young to dance so little." And she should know, she had been...
What Would Mary Lumpkin Do
For him to give you his children Without choice or pleasure For him to give you his land Born to hold us captive Your eyes must have...
The Shape I'm In
It flattens me It shatters me It shrinks me It drinks me Having made me liquid by Its sheer force of destruction What has it made of me I...
Outcast
When you Are an outcast For what You are Every breath Feels like rebellion
Cycles of Light
Earlier this month, I had a phase. One I'm deeply familiar with, where focus becomes almost impossible, and the effort to do so taxed me....
A Death, a Hallway, and a Solstice
Today is June 21st, 2023, it's the summer solstice here in the northern hemisphere. 32 years ago, my 42-year-old adopted mother died in a...
Responsibility
It starts out so simple and the first face you see you can't really see, you more sense them. And they usually weep at the joy and...
When We Were Close Enough To Touch
I long for a body that was never harmed That didn't recoil from violent words and rough hands Shrinking in fear of being seen I long for...
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