“I’m sitting on white paper again

My blood is in a clear bottle with a blue top

It should be whizzing about inside me through loops and turns

But it’s standing still, exactly as it shouldn’t be”

"A place called here, is somewhere I don’t know very well.

Here is the place between the past and the present.

Here is the place where the memories are.

But I don’t love them until later, 

When I am looking for their pieces between the seats in my car

On the way to the next"

“When Grief comes knocking, answer the door. Let her in.

Let her tell you all that was lost. Let her remind you how marvelous it was. Let her paint your memories in slow motion, let her sing your story with a cello. Let her teach you gratefulness and how to pay attention. Do not turn her away at the door. If you do, she will come back again knocking.”