It’s Time

The party’s over; it’s time to go home. Can’t you see that?

You can’t even get a ride home.

The room smells like stale beer, cigarette butts float in the half-empty glass on the counter.

A used condom peeks out from under the stained couch.

Where are your friends?

That endless ringing phone—voice mail again—you think that’s a coincidence?

Nah, man, come on! Think about it. It’s used up, all that glad-handing and smiling faces and “appreciation”.  We’ve tolerated it long enough. It’s served its purpose.


You did a good job. The best one you could have done. Well done, you.

Go on home now. You’ll find a way. There’s a soft place for you to rest your head.



Every “yes” moment that I indwell in my heart ripples through the ages, backwards and forwards, offsetting the perceived injustices, righting the wrongs, healing the heart, leaping over lifetimes to bring forth the moments of pure love and unconditional joy that are mine to behold and to embody now.


I see all of me, little me and big me, ranging along the ocean shore, as far to the left and as far to the right as my eyes can see.

Little mes and big mes, in-between mes and crying mes and laughing mes and angry mes, all with our toes in the water.

I look left and I look right with profound love and understanding for every one of the mes I see. With fluttering heart and tears in my  eyes, I call upon myself. As one, all of the mes act as I do. We lift our hands to the sky and look up. We clasp our hands to our heart and with a deep breath, pronounce our love for ourselves. In unison, we feel the deep love and joy that only comes with understanding and compassion.

With one breath, all of the mes are in Me. We are one. And I am grateful.

The Sidewalk

This poem found me today. Love it.

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

Portia Nelson

Chapter One
I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost …. I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two
I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn’t my fault
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three
I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit … but,
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter Four
I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter Five
I walk down another street.


to do, to be, to shine

to see, to hear, to feel

the all-consuming fire

burning your soul clean

leaving just the ashes

to be swept away by the wind

and then another breath

starts the fire again