I was born of the ocean, moved by the ebb and flow of the waves, more Fae than woman, more whimsy, more daydream than reality. To write is simply to translate the world as you feel it.. no two eyes the same, but all beholden to the gift of human decency.
My work lives somewhere between poetry and folklore. Filled with love, hope, grief, devotion, resilience and the quiet spark of the indomitable spirit. To know me is to find a million unfinished notes about the moments that haunt and shape you. To write is to wonder, to muse, to reflect the times.
The more complicated the world around me, the more I find solace in the untangling of words. I write to give voice to the vulnerable, I write to honor the gift of color in a world that could have been created grey. In a world that feels both haunted and hopeful, I write for those who stare down the impossible and call it survival, while still holding a place for tenderness in their hearts.
Dreamer By Trade...
Midnight Musings
They say we are made of stars.. and I know not if that is true.. I think perhaps we are born of the remnants, like ash, that remain.. for what are we really, If not born of the void? But is that not too magic? The becoming from the darkness.. a reminder that no spark of light is ever in vain.. for here you are.. here you are.. the indomitable spirit, born of ash, the absence of all you could have clung to.. yet lit in spite, your very own everlasting flame.
The creative soul must know that the entire world will serve as inspiration if you let it—the good, the bad, and the ugly too. Beauty comes from what you make of it, but what you choose to make of it is entirely up to you.
I like to think that there are meant to be two seasons—a lesson to them both. When Autumn comes and the trees put on their show, we’re reminded of the beauty often hidden below. And when Fall comes, we learn the grace of letting go, rest, healing, and that you are still worthy when all you offer are the bones of you.
