One hundred and eleven years.
We know you were terrified, brave, horrified, strong, resilient, panicked, and courageous, and we honor you this night of the year. Death is not failure. Your lives were you and you remain wonderful, somewhere out here in our atomic jigsaw of existence. I’m so sorry you experienced such horrors.
Deepest of peaceful rest to you.
Autumn reclaimed.
(RMS, 11-3-21.)
“You may’ve bought the gun,
But I made my own powder.”
(RMS, 8-8-21.)
Autumn isn’t the same without you.
(RMS, 8-21-2018.)
you found me
My anxiety has gotten out of control. No, I can’t admit that it’s out of control. I have my hand inside the lion’s cage and I quickly jerk it out before he bites down from time to time.
RMS, 9/5/2018
“She always cut her hair
so he couldn’t tear that out, too.”
(RMS, 7-16-22.)
—Virginia Woolf