Life through Death

We are fragile like the flowers, our hours sown with grief. Is it life—or a thief—that makes us and takes us, petal by petal to the wind? Ever closer to the end of all that ever almost was. We fade because of our inheritance— our parents left us death, and every breath, cut off from … Continue reading Life through Death


I was the girl in black, withering all away, the dreamer on the rack, beaten down with gray, the days were years, the years were centuries waiting for this day. All the yesterdays— those pale and hollow caves— all the tossing, turning ways of lying in the graves— the thirsts were flames, the flames were … Continue reading Alive