Irony in the Time of COVID-19 and Social Uprising.
I am fascinated by irony. Totally in love with it. It is intriguing, baffling, infuriating, elucidating, and brimmed with absurdity.
Browsing Tag:
Leslie Caplan
The Alchemy of Writing.
Writing is healing. It allows us to stream out, pour out, fall-on-our-ass-out, stumble our scrawl, or weave into the fibers, our silken fluidity.
Enter Darkness, Exit Light: Five Poems for Reading After the Reaping. {poetry}
I find that as I enter the hibernation period, I often stock up on words. Words that reflect the little light that is left as the twilight of the year arrives. Verses that remind me there is delight in dormancy and breadth in darkness.
Meeting and Mourning the State of the World.
I can only respond to such magnitude of conflict and terror in the world by writing it out, meeting it with eyes and heart open.
I Paint Your Life with Words. {poetry}
I may never see you again, never know your name, but this day, I take you home with me, and you, the stranger, becomes a part of me embedded into the life I paint.
In a System That Was Built Broken, It’s Time to ‘Write’ the Wrongs.
I must, and choose to, sit in the in-between, a place I always strive for, and not fate anything or anyone to anything. I imbue myself with curiosity, an inquisitive nature, and drop the story of how it's going to be, but rather discover it as it unfurls itself, as a choice that the nation and ...
A Deeper Calling: Become an Angel in Human Form.
What is happening is happening to all of us. The poverty, the disease, the natural disasters wiping out thousands -- all are personal to me. It is my self, my child, my lover, my sister, my best friend. It is the pulse of the main vein in a body that leads to the heart of everything. And it is ...
Just For Today: An Open Invitation. {poetry}
If you are a good person and you are kind to me, it doesn't matter to me who you vote for as long as you and I can find equanimity between us, the confluence, the space in the in-between.
The Ripple Effect Of Sharing Our Stories.
If I let myself run naked across this page, you will see me. I will be vulnerable. A deer in an open meadow with a bow and arrow pointed at my heart, or my jugular. I might stand wide-eyed and terrified of being laid to rest in a pool of my own blood-spill, or maimed to the point of crawling ...
Healing The Mother Wound.
We all start out innocent, until something comes along and twists our souls into torment, like it did with my mother. Her only way out was to take her life.