Visitor
A memory from those windy mountain roads. I grew up in those mountains. I am as much a part of them as the trees, and I carry their peace and […]
Tag Archives: Writing
This is Me
Not who you want. Nor who they wanted. But yes me, really me. Before, I was too this and should be that. Now I’m actually this, but too this (most […]
Not I… Not I
Shame is like the dam, That holds back the currents of love. How can it run once again freely? Unless that wall is broken. How can the river reach its […]
Shall Speak To Nations 