The Fragile Pathways to the Present…

Edited from a journal entry I wrote upon arriving back from a documentary filmmaking trip to Haiti one year ago: It seems obvious now.  Of course I should be here back in my bed, the rustling of wind through the trees outside my window and the faint sound of a TV downstairs.  But kneeling in …

The Longings of a Life too Late…

His eyes are closed Hands resting on his chest He lies there still and silent Outward peace and quiet Inward growing violent. An unrelenting agony A cesspool of regrets But this you’ll never see He hides it well.   These thoughts that come have done their time They took a number, stood in line He …