Not Quite
Years ago I went to a psychic. I'm still enamored by supernatural knowing. I think because I've spent my life not knowing. Not knowing my...
top of page
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.
Home: About
Favorite Pieces
Read some of my personal favorites
Home: List
"But she's not Black!"
I overheard my White adopted mother proclaim to my White stepfather after a visit from "concerned' neighbors because they saw a Black kid running around the neighborhood.
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 nursing home that overlooked a church.
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 miracle that is a child. But for you, they cry because they know that this is just not what they want.
At my suburban school, the White kids would ask me "What are you?" confused that my skin came with the White language in a White community. And a pain in my chest would open up and threaten to swallow me whole. Adopted as an infant I had no real information about my biological parents except my biological mom was White and my biological father was Black, and even that information wasn't certain.
All Entries
Home: Text
Search
Set Apart
There was a vase that sat on a high shelf in your sitting room. In intricate patterns, the overlapping colors create shapes that reminded...
Temporary Displacement
I like the not-quietness of airports. Standing in the gap with those going from here to there. Pre 9/11 my friends and I would go and sit...
Strawberry Sagittarius Moon
Tonight, this morning, or however you want to describe the time of day when you haven't gone to bed yet but the moon is setting and the...
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...
Covering
I no longer want to change my past or my life. This blanket that's been knitted now brings me comfort. Even when others added...
One Day Angeleen and The Year of Terrible Mistakes: Almost Halfway
After I posted my original 'One Day Angeleen' reflection, life has totally changed and I'm a completely different person with so much...
Chosen Things
I chose to embrace the parts of myself that disgust me. The parts where I judge and hate and snicker. The parts where I slice and dice my...
Thoughts About Writing
As I've started putting my writing out there I have noticed how critical I can be. And how uncomfortable it is asking for followers,...
Seventy-seven
From my house, I heard the murmur of Highway 77. The cars talking to each other in a constant tone. For a moment I felt guilty for...
Home: Blog2
bottom of page