I love this! It is beautiful and the poem fits so well with the photo. I also really like structure of the fourth stanza. I never thought to try anything like that and would like to experiment with it in my own writing.

Whimsygizmo's Blog

2011-02-25 at 16-21-12

You write it on
and bridges
and walls
and inevitable falls
and failings.

You paint it in
and sunset
and across star-stung skies
and in the tattoo
of shadows.

You stitch it into
hearts, tiny etched
sacred scars.

It is
and ridiculous
and readily available
and we forget
and we cheapen it
and we take it
but forget
to give it.

It is
and we’re found
gently loosed and unbound;
but we forsake it,
and forget
to live it.

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Make A Wish


The lucky number that you faithfully made a wish on

I closed and my eyes and opened my heart

Every desire, thought and need overflowed spilled out of head

My wishes never came true

But that didn’t stop me from wishing every time I caught the clock at precisely 11:11

I used to wish for little things like a new bike or an easy back oven

And then it became success

To be able to glide my fingers over the dreams that fuel my ambition

Where did 11:11 even evolve?

What makes it more hopeful than 12 or 13?

Why do I believe so deeply in a two digit number that has yet to prove its powers?

But I guess those are the questions that are met with answers like “Because it just is.”

Apoplectic Apostrophes

Abandoned Chairs

It was snowing. Again. Heavy and thick, like the clouds themselves were bleeding into the wind. Greta watched through a hole in the wood that covered most of the window, wondering how the sky could contain so much snow in the first place.

Although it was difficult to tell, since the light outside had been the same all day, curfew was approaching. The clock in the kitchen said it was just after five o’clock and curfew began at six. Greta peered through the snow, hoping to catch sight of her father’s shape among the swirling, endless white, but she couldn’t see him. She tried not to worry, but he was never late.

Greta glanced over her shoulder at the pot bubbling away on the stove. She had made a stew with the rabbits she’d caught yesterday, mixed with dried herbs, potatoes left over from the fall, and a can of…

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I think this story is beautiful. It reminds me a lot of the message of TWLOHA.

Broken Light: A Photography Collective

Photo taken by a woman who has suffered from severe depression. She hopes that by telling her story that she will help fight stigma, and help people to understand things like self-harm that seem so hard to understand. She would also like to help other people suffering to feel less alone, and maybe even share the spark of hope.

About this photo: “It took me fifteen minutes of searching through every drawer in my house, but I finally found the one piece of orange clothing that I have. I’m wearing orange in honor of Self-Injury Awareness Day. I know every day is some other awareness day, but this one happens to mean a lot to me. As someone who has been down the path of self-harm, and had people I love dearly who have been there, I feel terribly and empathize for all who are suffering enough to self-harm…

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