Often a mountain decision
Is a molehill in retrospect—
And sometimes vice versa
Later on when we reflect.
—Terri Guillemets
Often a mountain decision
Is a molehill in retrospect—
And sometimes vice versa
Later on when we reflect.
—Terri Guillemets
If your armor against the world is laziness and excuses, you’re not protecting yourself from battle and injury — you’ve trapped yourself inside with them.
—Terri Guillemets
In my head —
I’ve tried a million
times to go back
to that day —
tried to change
my choices
begged a do-over
from the universe
I’ve crippled myself with
guilt
sorrow
thrashing the quicksand
sinking in
layers of grief
fighting a sticky web
trapped in
regret-regret-regret
I don’t even care about
my own
broken heart
I’m sorry
I broke yours
—Terri Guillemets
First cold-weather storm of the season
Yellow leaves flying off windy trees
Birds pecking out a last-minute snack
Sudden rain pelting shivering shrubs
—Terri Guillemets
Regret is the glue that makes grief stick around for a lifetime.
—Terri Guillemets
It is said that the body will heal itself of most things, if we will allow it to do so and not overburden it with remedies — the same is true of the soul and the heart.
—Terri Guillemets
Moonlight is a beautiful and comforting reminder that the sun is still out there somewhere.
—Terri Guillemets
Ever seen an August cloud in July? —
deliciously bright puffy white striations
on a sky the bluest blue this side of Rigel.
The earth is still living in steamy summer
but these lovely lingering clouds distinctly
belong to the early edges of autumn.
—Terri Guillemets
A flock of honking geese
just flew over my city backyard
goosebumps, I got goosebumps
never, ever have I seen this
beautiful feat of nature from
my own little speck I call home
for an awesome morning moment
all my human burdens forgotten
—Terri Guillemets
The shadows are falling the same as they were last year
The early summer calm sounds the same as it did last year
As it did at this same time last year, when the babies died
When the babies died, and the mama grieved for days.
—Terri Guillemets
The pᖇ!@%$ and the d!@#$ and the yayholes
Rudely driving round the big city streets —
Just avoid them and get yourself home safely
Ditch the memory and be happy in peace.
—Terri Guillemets
Mama dove paces the fence-top above her injured baby
It tries to fly with wounded wing, feathers not in sync
She waits, waits through afternoon and into nightfall
As patiently as love itself — life fluttering on the brink
—Terri Guillemets
Early summer, late at night
Pleasant sweet-smelling air
Clouds veiling a half-lit moon
Scorpius crawling up the sky
Tree-hid birds awake chirping
Lone dog barking in its yard
Startled stray cats darting
Crickets playing insistent songs
Quiet of people gone to bed
Mellow breezes gently stirring
Damp-grass lawns subtly cooling
Street lights too brightly illuming
Saguaro blooms softly glowing
—Terri Guillemets