On Grief

I listen to the sweet lilting of a Persian poem, perched softly on my bed. It has been a long day. The sun came out in all her summer glory and then the clouds gathered and had their say. It rained a while. Then the breeze picked up, wrecking havoc with my hair and going deep into parts of me I barely remember. A day, I muse, is a metaphor for an entire life. There is a dawn and a dusk, and a span of time in between. And then there is sleep. Continue reading



Time isn’t always counted in numbers. A number of seconds, minutes, weeks, years, lifetimes- how much can you really measure? There are certain milestones though, that hit you hard. You do a little double take and wonder what happened in between. Where did all the time go? What does that mean for you? Continue reading