they visit you, too, don’t they?
these ghastly tremors.
unannounced, threading through
the tendons and tendrils of our
fragile frames.

though oft undetected
in the gait of our steps
still, we are rattled to our cores.
a melancholic mélange, of sorts.

how often do i want to feel nothing?
how often, do i wonder?



there was an earthquake the other day.

in the wee hours of the morning,
i was awakened by a reminder
of my terribly terrestrial condition.

i wasn’t prepared for this –
this unpredictable breed of natural disaster.
back home in ohio, we drilled for tornados.
terrors from the sky, not below our feet.

and yet, the way the earth rolled,
i couldn’t help but feel as though
the maker himself
were gently rocking this earthly cradle
back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

i closed my eyes and
       drifted peacefully
back to sleep.

“when do you know?”


a smitten friend of mine once asked,
“when do you know if she’s the one?”

i laughed and made eyes with my shoes.
i could tell that he was hoping
for a clearer answer than i could muster.

“i believe you know…” i would reply:

…when your search for the answer
stops being defined by your options,
and starts being defined by your choices.

the moment you know, is the moment
that question – and its answer – become irrelevant.