she eats her lunch alone,

in a noisy crowded cafeteria

the sentencing of Nassar

playing in the background.

“this is not my story,” the judge says

“this is the survivors’ story”

which she hears above the din

head buried, tears slip into her soup

because no matter how much

time passes, some wounds

never heal – no matter how hard

she fights to overcome them,

some injuries linger on in

her mind and her heart

and it takes all her energy to

lift herself, to eat her lunch and smile at

the co-worker, the janitor, the cashier,

to carry the ancient unresolved

pain of her own silent survival

Note to world #3854

She had been trying to look for a new job … without a lot of success. Nothing seemed right. Things didn’t pan out. The timing was bad. It wasn’t a smart move.

And then it occurred to her that maybe it was not working out because what she was really looking for ( feared the most ) was a new purpose.

Note to world #5647

Lately, when I am in social settings, instead of trying to share things about myself, I just recite snippets from NPR shows I’ve listened to during my drives.

Disembodied voices sharing the news have become integral parts of my personal life.

Plus not much is happening to me most days…