Posted in Writers

Ode to a Black Eye-Introducing Christine Ray

Whisper and the Roar


Ode to a Black Eye by Christine Ray

I can’t remember now

If it was your left eye or your right

Just how puffy it was

Almost swollen shut

Black and purple

Against your pale skin

The white of your eye


From the force of the blow

I don’t remember

If we asked what

Had happened

Or if we just knew

I do remember

Being in Mrs. Merten’s

English class

People whispering

Into each other’s ears

Wondering what you had done

To deserve this black eye

Had you pushed John-John

To the limit?

Flirted with another guy?

Had you been mouthy?

They wondered

A bitch?

You could be mouthy

You could be a bitch

In the way that only a teenage

Girl can be

I hit you once myself

At a middle school dance

After you said something

Cruel and hurtful to me

Pushing a button

That only an…

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Posted in Writers

When the numbers don’t add up: Flipping your delivery to encourage patient autonomy and soften transitions in care.

I love nurses…❤
Awesome article!

SESpool...translucence at its best, just me being me.

She lies in the bed, covered in bruises with a pallor base tone, whispering “good morning” to me through blood-blistered, dry lips. I brought her a copy of her lab results, but she already knows she needs blood and platelets. It’s become a daily task, the focus of her days this month. I have done my job keeping her safe, educating her about how the results we read together likely make her feel and what to look out for.

She determines how she feels by the numbers I provide her with.

Her course of treatment is based on results, bad cells versus good, functioning ones, her body’s reaction to chemo, radiation and a prolonged hospitalization. I praise her on her ability to predict the numbers based on her symptoms. She starts saying things like; “I need blood today, and probably platelets because I had a nose bleed last night.” After…

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Posted in Writers

When You Leave An Abusive Relationship

Hindsight: My Journey

I left my abusive ex-husband 6 years ago after 25 years of emotional abuse and thankfully only one night of violence. The first 3 years were rough and would have been a lot smoother if I had done a few things differently. So, please consider the following:

If you are in danger,call 911. Call the police. I wish I had. They are trained professionals and many of their calls involve domestic violence. They are used to the cunning, lying behaviours of an abuser and in most cases will believe you. Don’t call friends, family, or neighbours. Chances are they will have never dealt with this type of situation before, won’t know what to do other than console you, and they may even try to talk you into going back.

Get a lawyer as soon as possible. Had I seen a lawyer within the first few days of…

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Posted in Writers

The Messiness of She…

Many women have to deal with their own She…glad to know I am not alone. Great writing from Trizia…

On wings in Flight.

She is high.

She is low.

She is scared, scarred, unsure.

Lost in the past behind closed doors.

She tries to make sense of the present.

Yet she cannot, but she keeps trying.

She is lost.

She is found.

She is hopeless yet always hopeful.

She is a diamond in the rough.

She is who she is, and still she is sorry for it.

She wants to heal, say she is real.



She is, always has been.

Yet still she does not know.

Behind my now very safe and peaceful closed doors, I still remain occasionally lost and confused.

Desperately wanting to hand over the reality of responsibility to a someone who will honour the gift of trust I wish to give!

And for someone who has learnt that trust maybe, more importantly than love is the most precious of gifts a messy imperfect bieng can give?

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Just when I think there are no more words to express my struggles and my pain, my growth and my broken wings, my stubborn determination to fly in spite of the scars, I find words like this. Amazing, raw writing. I love your words. Thank you for sharing your journey to encourage me on mine.
Jeanne Marie

On wings in Flight.

Is she broken beyond repair?

This night, is she broken beyond repair?

Yet still she believes in tomorrow.

The dawning of a new day.

A new beginning.

Of hope, in something greater than this night of despair.

Beyond where she feels broken beyond repair…

Tonight I feel broken.

I know that whilst I am, I also know and believe I am not beyond repair.

I am just bone deep weary.

But finally I know that this darkness that has enveloped me time and again since childhood will pass.

It has to pass, because if not then my abuser wins from beyond the grave.

I cannot.

I will not allow him to have that power over me still.

No matter how strong and loud the abyss calls to me!

Writing this here, writing this now!!

Is a huge step forward into an unknown place for this broken winged bird.

Because no…

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Embers …

I love these words…

On wings in Flight.

The dying embers.

The shooting star.

She dances with abandon naked in the rain.

On a misty dawn.

Under moonlight.

Full moon.

Half moon.

No moon.

Light and dark converge. Magnify.



Never will each moment be lost, even as they fade from sight.

With sweet yet fearful abandon the spark that ignites the moments within.

Will not, Cannot, should never be denied.

There have been so many highs and lows in this limbo that I am in.

I wonder incessantly..

What is it, that I need to learn?


Let go of?

The caged bird took flight in her soul a long while before, yet the destination?

This Haven of Peace only became my resting place.

My safe Harbour.

A year ago!

And still in moments of self doubt I feel the desperate beating the wings of my soul fighting to ignite and recapture the dying embers of…

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Posted in Writers

Life… #Poetry

Touched my soul…

anita dawes and jaye marie

leaves-1076307__340.jpg Image by


One by one my days grow old.

Their faded edges curl

Like an old discarded paperback.

Words fall like scrambled eggs

From the pages

Their meaning lost in dust

Would that I could rewrite one day

The first time you looked at me

When I knew love

to be more than a fairy tale

A lifetime cannot be called back

Nor can it be captured in another’s eyes

There is but one true love

I will be with you soon

To sing of us under new dancing stars…


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