sb lacroix
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I sat on the edge of my pool, feet in the water, notebook on my lap, pen scratching in an attempt to write, yet my efforts were met by an invisible wall of profound stillness. After a few attempts, I put my pen aside. I took a deep breath and turned my focus to my
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While this poem is listed in the forgotten files category, it was never truly forgotten. I wrote it nearly 20 years ago. It was inspired by the large Hickory tree that stands at the end of my driveway. My husband and I named it The Whispering Tree. It is a beautiful old tree, full of
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Going into the most opaque and obscured parts of the darkness is not for the faint of heart, yet it is something we all must do if we wish to become enlightened. We must be willing to let go of all we think we know as truth and consider every possibility. It is the journey
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On the days I’m feeling uninspired I look at things more closely. I listen more intently. I feel more deeply. Something will strike a cord in me, and it may only be a slight vibration, but if I allow it to grow, it will consume me. Through the lens of my camera everything seems more
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Eternal ache In a forgotten soul,Eternity pennedOn a fragile scroll;The scalesHave much to weigh. Perpetual existenceIn a forgotten way,Fate fallenOn a stony brae;Emptiness increasesThe weight of us. From my book: A Dark Quill
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Lifeless butterflies, dead and dry, rest in their perpetual state upon a lovely journal that has yet to have its virgin pages marked with the scratching of a barely legible hand. Dead yet beautiful are the butterflies. Promising but empty is the journal. Thoughts can be as fragile as the wings of a dead and
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The black dog came back today, soaking we from the rain. I recognized it immediately. It huddles on the door mat of my front porch trying to keep warm, the chain around its neck broken from the desire to be set free. Cured up on my porch, seeking shelter from the pouring rain, the black
SB LACROIX 