When tragedy strikes we become sleuths. We reconstruct events to establish the belief that it should have been us, it could have been us, it was our fault or we caused their death somehow. The days pass into weeks, the weeks years until the memory fades and details dim.
The Reflection Terrace at Brookside Gardens
I am still water
I take on the color of thehedge-pine greens thegeese-moss browns thetortoise-rock grays theazalea-breeze pinks thebride-haze whites...
POULTICEWhen you have looked elsewherefor answers—the spider’s web,the empty hive, the rotted log,beneath the unturned stone—ask yourself what you haveneglected. Do not lamentthat what...
