Please Take This Cup From Me

found on youtube

One of my favorite songs.  Hard to beat this one.


Editorial Review – Real Raw Hope

It felt pretty amazing to see this.

The Book Review Directory

Title: Real Raw Hope

Author: Rio McKee

Genre: Poetry

Real Raw Hope is a book of poetry inspired by Rio McKee’s history of trauma and journey towards recovery.  McKee shares in the Introduction that she survived an active shooting on her college campus.  The trauma of this event prompted her to unlock a larger and deeper history of trauma.  The poetry gives voice to the events and pains McKee had silently held secret for so long.  This process contributed to McKee’s healing, and she hopes sharing her work will help others feel less alone in their own pains.

View original post 448 more words

The little blonde haired girl 

I had to share this, because he captured what it was like to be that girl.  I know, because this could have been me.   Twenty-eight schools from the first grade through high school.  Check out his blog.  It’s amazing!


Middle school

She was the new kid

I was alone in a crowd

She started mid year

I should’ve known everyone

She was used to moving

I went places in my head

Her golden hair made her stand out

My unkempt curly hair did the same

She felt everything was temporary

I was afraid I would always be that way

She was selective on who she befriended

I gave my lunchtime chocolate milk to anyone

She asked me to push her on the swing

I felt the joy and rush she experienced

She set a date for every recess

I now looked forward

She chose me

I let her in

Then one day

She was gone

I pushed an empty swing

Decades later

I don’t long to reunite

I just hope

That she found


Who loves to swing her

View original post

Until Now…

For over fifty years I have kept secrets locked inside of me.  From the age of four I was warned that “if I told” then no one would love me, ever.  What a sad state of affairs for anyone who has grown up in this state of mind.

Until now…

I am well past the half way point in my life and I am tired.  Tired of pretending that everything is okay.  Tired of making the best of it.  Tired of loving people in my life just because “I’m supposed to”.  Tired of being afraid.

Until now…

Every single day I deal with triggers that warn me to shut down, flee, hide, fight and a myriad of other emotions.  Over the years I have learned techniques to cope with these triggers, but I am still impacted every… single… day…

Until now…

I have found a voice through writing.  It makes me vulnerable.  It makes me feel.  It makes me face the truths that I have buried for over five decades.

Until now…

I didn’t believe I had anything to offer anyone.  I didn’t believe I could make a difference.  I was wrong.

Until now

His Dance



Her red shoes

make a scuffing sound

across the wood floor


His grip is tight with

sweaty palms and the

stench of whiskey on his breath


The music low and

slow as he presses his

forty something year old body


Against her ten-year-old

breasts with an intensity

that begs her to scream and push him


Away, but her

mother watches closely

making sure she finishes each dance


Mama slips damp

bills into her bra and laughs

into the neck of the next patron


Lining up for

his dance



She flinches

at kindness

and embraces

the cold-hearted


Sincerity makes her cry,

aggression makes her cower.


She doesn’t look at you,

she looks into you.

Wary of your purpose

in her attempt to survive.


Holding her breath,

always aware of a way to escape.

Unable to relax completely

until you move on.


She is trapped between the two.


The very things she fears the most

are what she needs to breathe.