Come the Morning

Nervousness of new
And newer
Makes me sick to my stomach

We’ve got this
I say -not believe

We’ll make it through
Is more truthful
And I tell it to myself

I balance you on a memory
Have you recite all the words
The weeds with their gossamer heads
Explode into view
Memory begets memory begets memory begets you
Here with me now

Safe and sleeping as if the dragon’s den did not await us

Safe and sleeping as if your journey will not be long and solo

Safe and asleep as I long to be
Come the morning I will miss you


Sing On

Oh, shall the waves roll slowly by when all is tied and still

Abide the fawn and darting quail til fathoms shall run dry

Beneath my feet as I wait on a word or two from thee

Enticed by sunset moon sunrise and all the heavenly throng

Sing on
Sing on
My dancing fae
Sing on and nimbly sway
For on the morrow shall we meet
Rejoined at the noon day

Not a Burden

Intentions turn the wipers on

A shimmering of anxiety

Touches my dancing soul

Chaos found me pretty

Willing to upend a life spent shivering in anxiety

But you thick and barnacled, wise and rusted

Found I needed a chain to shake about

Like a tambourine round the old camper

Found me beautiful in any state

Found me light as a feather

As a spark from the lighter

As the first day you lifted me far above your head asking

Tell me all you see and once you fly higher

Shout it down

I’ll make it out as best I can

Until I learn the language of your tongue


echoes don’t answer in a place like this
where Waves of silence oppress the space
but i will hope even here
though life offer me despair
dark shapes shake me to the core
yet i will not turn away as before

Faith and Mental Illness

I struggle with mental health. This is going to be a bit of a rocky post, but bear with me as I go from mental health ally to mental health advocate.

Important note: Not a medical doctor, just a fellow sufferer with experience in social anxiety, major depressive disorder, and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Take everything I say with a grain of salt.

These are three things I do before I go down into the rabbit hole of depression-

I ask, Am I doing the things I can to be more in touch with Heavenly Father? Remember, for those of faith, being depressed can make you feel as if the spirit isn’t with you. If you know you’re doing what you can to be in touch with God, rest assured He is with you. For me these acts of faith include prayer, scripture study, reading or listening to sermons and attending church.

I consider my physical body. As with heart disease- I try to do what helps my condition. Diet, exercise, rest, meditation and medication can be life-changers for a chronic condition. Remember, you do what’s right for you. Not everyone with heart disease needs medication, but some do. Diet and exercise alone may not be what’s right for you.

I consider my allies- But when these things don’t seem to be working- when life seems irrevocably dark despite my best efforts- I remember this is my illness. And I hang on for the ride. I may have no energy for mental health beyond uttering a prayer. During these times, understanding is needed from my allies- friends, family and my therapist. Depression is a battle. Sometimes we need a shieldbearer. Sometimes we just need a hand there for us when we reach out.

As a final thought, I quote Jeffrey R. Holland, “we are infinitely more than our limitations or our afflictions!” The rest of his talk, Like a Broken Vessel, is hopeful. On bad days, I play it over again. I’ve linked it below.

We are more than our depression or anxiety. We are more than our burdens. Yet we do struggle, we do stumble. And that’s okay.

God will not always take the burden from me, but He can lighten the load.

About Pen Names

Hello, strangers and friends alike!

Do you write under a pseudonym?

My pen name is taken from The Kittiwake, a poem by Wilford Wilson Gibson.

With the struggles I’ve experienced in life, his poem holds special meaning. I find the Kittiwake represents hope, and this poem a struggle for achievement of any kind.

The pen name has intimate meaning to me, but I’m still grateful for my real name. I published a book of poems under my real name years ago as a challenge to myself. Nothing happened. It was a miracle. I thought the whole world would cave in and bad reviews be thrown at me night and day. Turns out, nobody cares! Which means I can happily keep doing what I love under a gauze of anonymity. It may seem backward– who doesn’t want their poem to touch a heart? I know it would make my day.

But the moment of publishing let me know my struggles were sand. just so much sand. And I could make of it what I would. It was an enormous relief. Like walking in the library and going-look at all those people who made their dream come true. Always a booster of le morale. Anyways, I don’t talk with you much, and just wanted to say I am so thrilled to be part of a community of writers and poets and creative people. and i want to ask you– what’s your pen name and why did you choose it? what does it mean to you?

The Kittiwake

by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

With blistered heels and bones that ache,
Marching through pitchy ways and blind,
The miry track is hard to make;
Yet, ever hovering in my mind,
Above red crags a kittiwake
Hangs motionless against the wind—

Grey-winged, white-breasted and black-eyed,
Against red crags of porphyry
That pillar from a sapphire tide
A sapphire sky. . . . Indifferently
The raw lad limping at my side
Blasphemes his boots, the world, and me. . . .

Still keen, unwavering and alert,
Within my aching empty mind
The bright bird hovers—and the dirt
Of bottomless black ways and blind,
And all the hundred things that hurt
Past healing, seem to drop behind


from his bathtub
he listens to birdsong
beyond closed windows

muffled bursts of sunrise
scrub away the bruises
long to ease his shoulders
shadows flickering as cars break the light

he hums himself a birthday
a conjuring of youth
murmurs her name
scent of blueberries and forget-me-nots
in the bubbles about his knees
smooths back his hair with water
and sits forward dripping

he whistles a response to the
trickle tickle of birdsong
and waits for her name to replay

So What Do I Love Now?

When I was healthier, pre-illness, I trusted my body to do what I asked. I hiked my gear in and out with my trusty dog Mr.B. I worked out. I volunteered. I never accepted help- which drove my husband crazy. I was fit strong. Then whack. ME hit hard.

Next 5 years in bed. Couldn’t think straight, focus, get downstairs. Shortly, it was hell. I found the right med combination for me and the last year I’ve been slowly getting my life back. As in grocery shopping. As in spending time with friends. Little things I overlooked when I was running around conquering life. This is not what I look like today. 5 years in bed was rough on me. But I walked through hell for over 8 years and got my smile back. I see this picture which used to bring me despair- and now see hope. Hope for a life back in nature, back in the world, back on my feet hiking in my gear. But today is not this day. It may be again because exists the opportunity to grow– and for that I am eternally grateful. Right now I love what tomorrow will be, I love writing as always, I love second chances and I believe in all of them with all my heart.