I remember when you sat by my side, and cut a plastic plate in half to make a mask with my students on the screen.
Tag: love
Misconceptions of Hurricanes: A Poem
There are misconceptions from the moment I wake up. I may appear as the sun shows up on a given day, but shiver in flip flops, jeans, and a thin blue rain jacket when hurricane winds begin to strike the coast. I was not made one way, but changed the moment a hurricane struck the… Continue reading Misconceptions of Hurricanes: A Poem
“Mommy, What Does Love Look Like”: Stories Imagined and Stories Told
When the darkest hour was not done and the mud feel from the mountain, yes, I slid. The tears came, and my anger, without a mercy for which a Christian sinner prays, set ablaze for those who demanded when they'd received. I collapsed upon the green shores where you once played and asked for such stories of mine. Then your father came home with your brother, and found me quiet ...
Remember the Times: a Joyful Corrie Reflection and Poetry Excerpt
Then are times, like now, when I come out of the winter. I feel the joy of her life. I feel the pull of her spirit. Her strength and humor then remind me of how she would want me to be after her death.
Where You are, You will Come Again (For Jack, For Corrie and poetry excerpt)
Death smiled when she said, "Where you are, you will come again."
The Four Gifts that Keep Me Going
My soul flies as quick as a hurricane sweeping the coast empty of light.
Walk Along the Beach, a poem
I reach for your hand to walk along the beach. White sand between toes can be twenty instead of ten I reach for your hand, but you turn away to look at orange streaks of sky. Small fires reflect in your eyes. Sometimes I see the mountain shades of the blue of Blueridge September skies… Continue reading Walk Along the Beach, a poem
Daisies on the Fields of France, a poem
Daisies on the Fields of France By Rebecca T. Dickinson I stand at the kitchen door with light lemon hair curling at my shoulders. Untucked, gray shirt as eyes stare at another plain in my mind that no soul-stained teacher wants to see or hear again. Meet me in the here and… Continue reading Daisies on the Fields of France, a poem
Corrie's Season 