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It was a few months into my freshman year of college; I was at daily Mass with my friends. At this time, I was really beginning to become aware of how much pain my parents’ divorce had caused and continued to cause me. I remember sitting in Mass, attempting to calm myself, but feeling rising panic each time the priest said the word...
Read MoreDuring his homily, a local priest referred to Christmas as “the whisper of a hope that never dies.” This struck me to the point of tears. These peaceful, consoling words I needed to hear this season came at the most unexpected time—and it has been a very, very long time since I have felt that sort of consolation flood my heart.
Read MoreLooking for answers, I’ve read many self-help books, listened to speakers, and talked to professionals, friends, and family members, but none have offered solutions. | En mi búsqueda de respuestas, he leído libros de autoayuda, he escuchado a charlistas, también he hablado con profesionales, amistades y familiares, pero ninguna de sus sugerencias me ayudaron.
Read MoreBeing a very proud person, I have struggled a lot, knowing that my husband knows all about my weaknesses and failings—and yet at the same time I have a very deep desire to be totally known and loved. This poem explores this theme, while also touching on the grief of losing our fifth child at 22 weeks last year.
Read MoreThe title is a reference to the old unit of measurement that was roughly the length of a forearm. It expresses how the poorly managed conflict and ultimate breakdown in my parents’ marriage left me avoidant of relationships with others, particularly romantic ones. Even as I met amazing individuals who were attractive on so many levels, I kept them at a distance out of fear and shame...
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