Redirection

I can be like a hound dog, occasionally distracted by attractive scents, sniffing successfully until something redirects me.

Motherless On Mother’s Day

by Vennie Kocsis I don't quite understand these constant holidays, dedicated to moms and dads and bunnies and love. I see them as marketing scams, a way to boost economy almost every month, by throwing in a Holiday. But hey, maybe I'm bitter. On these days I am reminded of my absent mother. See, not … Continue reading Motherless On Mother’s Day

Around My City She Sleeps

There are people who learn to trust the streets. I think of their lives, how they have made darkness their day and daylight their night so they can stay alive. Where is the safe space when the alleys are teeming with the unloved at night, ravaged by the anger in their souls, screaming out their … Continue reading Around My City She Sleeps

My Childhood Is a Graveyard of Ghosts

I wonder if my mother ever felt the rejection and pain of her children. Did she ever cry? I can't recall in this moment, ever seeing my mother cry. I wonder if she'd care that I love pictures of my family; to document moments of happy, because no one ever did that for me. I … Continue reading My Childhood Is a Graveyard of Ghosts

Born Crazy: A Video Poem

"You're crazy." How often have you heard this phrase thrown around, either flippantly, in jest or to victim blame someone who has overcome or is recovering from abuse? I heard this often as a post-cult teenager and well into my adult years. While I was actually dealing with the behavioral aftermath of being an extremely … Continue reading Born Crazy: A Video Poem

When Writing Out Trauma Is Crippling

A wise person once said, "There are three things you should never share; your relationship, your finances and your next move." It has become a mantra for my life.   Years of being both vulnerable and held back at the wrong times have left me speculating my own judgment.  Being alone is safer, away from the … Continue reading When Writing Out Trauma Is Crippling