My story of surviving COVID-19, false test results, complications, and continued, lingering health problems seven weeks later.
Rather than be filled with fear, I want to hide in the cleft of the Rock, I want to take shelter beneath His wings, I want to run to Him to make Him my strong tower, my fortress. How do I do that?
A poem about the diagnosis that changed everything.
Another poem about that one word.
Strands of keratin. They slide between my fingers and I think-- Where were we, Love, when this small space at the end of the lengths were new, emerging like buds of Spring from scalp and skin?