Tag: Death
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A Warm Day in Winter
Death is never an ending, death is a change; Death is beautiful, for death is strange; Death is one dream out of another flowing. –Conrad Aiken, House of Dust One month. It was an unusually warm day in winter when you left. We awoke to slate skies that would churn into midday storms, as if…
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Father
he said ‘my absence is strong and warm. it will hold you. it will teach you how to miss. how to be without. and how to survive anyway.’ -how my father raised me –Nayyirah Waheed I blinked and suddenly 6 months passed since my last writing. Not for lack of material per se, but rather…
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Something to Say, Something to Find
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go” –Jamie Anderson It has…
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Rebirth
“If eternal existence is altered, then it must become more beautiful; and if it disappears, it must return with more sublime image; and if it sleeps, it must dream of a better awakening, for it is ever greater upon its rebirth.” –Khalil Gibran Life has been busy, a pell-mell dash through seasons as summer is…
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Through the Eye
“He who has not been bitten by the serpents of light and snapped at by the wolves of darkness, will always be deceived by the days and the nights.” –Khalil Gibran, The Broken Wings Wild dreams, dark dreams, bright dreams. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? There’s so much to say, so much to write…
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The Ghosts of Oakdale, pt. 1
“The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.” –Percy Bysshe Shelley Founded in 1852, Oakdale Cemetery in Wilmington was the first planned, rural cemetery in North Carolina.…
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Catacombs
“When he shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the face of heaven so fineThat all the world will be in love with nightAnd pay no worship to the garish sun.” –William Shakespeare It has been a while, hasn’t it? For months now I’ve battled with writing, battled with…
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A Summer of Wanderings
The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page. Augustine of Hippo Since I was 5 years old, I’ve traveled almost every summer. Most of the summers of my youth were spent in France, but as I got older, I tried to get out into different parts of America…
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Bonaventure Dreaming
Bonaventure is called a graveyard, a town of the dead, but the few graves are powerless in such a depth of life. The rippling of living waters, the song of birds, the joyous confidence of flowers, the calm, undisturbable grandeur of the oaks, mark this place of graves as one of the Lord’s most favored…
Just a Poor Ghost 