A space for my words to meander.


I sit across from the student therapist. The room is too hot and the chairs too paisley. The old pipes talk their secrets as i talk mine. Theirs are more interesting.

She states revelations I already knew. I say “oh yes, I have never thought about it in that way”. Of course I have. I validate her responses to me. And I wonder who is getting the therapy.

Sandcastles in the dark

The darkness crept in.

And my girls saw me crying.

I tried to escape, I put my hair in front of my face and told them both I’d be right back.

I shut the door and lay face down on my bed. The sobs came fiercely. No suppression, I wanted them gone.

Footsteps outside the door. I breathe deep, healing breaths. I will be okay, I will be okay, I repeat to myself in whispers.

The sobbing and tears end. I look in the mirror, my face does not have the ability to hide the pain.

I open the door and they are both standing there.

“mommy crying” my two year old says.

“mommy’s fine” I smile and say to both of them.

My 6 year old says nothing. She wraps her arm around my middle and I kiss the top of her head.

“let’s go finish building with those blocks!”. My voice chipper and forced.

Maeve looks at me and smiles. We build castles together.

Her Truth

She says to me, “but you have been yelling at me all day!”

She is in tears in a crumbled ball on the freshly vacuumed rug.

But I haven’t been yelling at her all day. Yes, in that moment I did yell. Her whining of not being able to get dressed on her own was more than I could handle at that moment. I yelled. I called out her age. But I hadn’t been yelling at her all day. That was fact.

She said I had been yelling at her all day. That was her truth.

Two year old possibilities

I look into your eyes and see a mirror reflecting back. As you begin your journey I think of the possibilities for you. I mourn for my possibilities. You stand before me lost in play.

Fiona, I say. Fiona.

I’m compelled to say these words to you that I have said before.

Fiona, you always be who you are meant to be. You love who you want to love, and you do what you want to do. Okay?

Your two your old grin meets me. Your eyes twinkle.

Ok mama, you say.

I hope if I say these words enough that one day you will hear them. That one day I will hear them.

A space for my words to meander.


confessions are self-serving


Life somehow is chasing rainbows with a stranger; with that, you'll never be lonely.

The Living Marianas Trench

With a Challenger-deep Sentiments


Words are beautiful beyond meanings

Sarah Doughty

Novelist, Poet, Wordsmith

Peace in Darkness

weird alien đź‘˝

unbolt me

the literary asylum

Words on Empty Ears

Understanding someone’s way with words isn’t as simple as you think.

Cafe Book Bean

Talk Books. Drink Coffee.

DoubleU = W



Poetry from an English Hart writing

Everything I Never Told You

Lucidly in shadows. Poetry from a hand that writes misty.


Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.

Poems and Petals

Because poetry. And petals.