She was only Seventeen

Learning to Breathe Again

You may trod me

in the very dirt

But still,

like dust,

I'll rise.

-Maya Angelou

Point to Ponder for Today

C.S. Lewis once said: To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

This is my puppy.

This is Ryder Aloysius. He's half Pomeranian, half Chihuahua, and the light of my life.

An Elegy for My Virginity

Before his exploration
You were uncharted
A territory
Not ready to be explored.
Then he came along.
He tried to break in.
He wanted you to
Open your doors.
But you objected
Knew you weren't ready.
You resisted
But he persisted.
He wanted more.
And still you told him
I'm just not ready.
Still he was curious
Of what he'd not yet adored.
He was stronger.
He won.

It wasn't me he wanted.
It was you, dear.
When he couldn't have you
Love did not endure.
And so he left me
Took us for granted.
Like broken shells
Tossed upon the shore.
And now you hide.
You're like a hermit.
No one can touch you.
You can't be sure.
Once a buried treasure
You're now a cast-off.
A barren wasteland
Wanted no more.