Word Stories


by:dreamer is my middle name

reckless, that ain’t me
at least that’s what i think
always thinking, planning,
trying to be ready
for the catastrophe
the one that dwells in my head, so heavy,
the one he uses to try and make me sink
down to the abyss of darkness
where he has dug up a hole
six feet under ground
lined with comfort
so that it calls out to me
to come and lay down
thats when he’ll shovel all those lies,
burying me alive,
trying to squeeze out my hope,
that crazy hope that only comes from light
but you see light beats out the dark,
so i guess he didn’t think it through
look again fool, that hole’s made for you.

Word Stories


by: dreamer is my middle name

I could not sleep. Tossing and turning I keep looking out my window to see if there is any sign of light. When is the sun going to come out?

Finally light. Not very much of it, but enough for it to be morning. Quietly I got dressed and snuck out of the house filled with peaceful sleepers.

My pace increasing as I walked, I couldn’t contain my urgency. Running as fast as I could on the rough terrain I slipped on a rock and fell. My hands and knees stripped of their skin, but had no bearing on my travel.

Sandals covered in dirt, sprinkled with blood from my wounds, I slowed my movement, for I had finally arrived. My heart thumping and my breath as if it had run out, I fell to the ground.

On my knees weeping, I see two pierced feet walk up to me. His pierced hands reach for mine and pull me into a warm embrace.

My hope is restored.

Word Stories

Even Though

by: Michelle Street

Even though I love my children with all my heart, I still love men too and want to party. Such an internal struggle.

Even though I love the Lord and pray every day, I am still fallen. I am still sinful, yet forgiven.

Even though I love this man, I am still unsure. I will still react in destructive ways. I will still guard myself from the inevitable pain of loving someone so much your expectations become unrealistic.

Even though life is good… and I mean REALLY good, I still desire more. Lord, why is that??

Even though today is my first day of sobriety and I know the road ahead is going to be a hard one, the road I’ve travelled so far is pulling me so deep into darkness, I almost cannot see light. At least there is light on the road ahead.

Even though sadness and pain overwhelm me most days, outwardly I cannot falter. My kids deserve better. So instead, I’ll keep working toward the day that the inside matches the outside.

Word Stories


by: Michelle Street

I lived every moment fully vulnerable, fully open to the possibility, allowing new love to overshadow past hurt. Every time was new and fresh … a clean slate. Two broken people, letting go long enough to love enough to mend the fragments.   Together, scraps were made whole.

Every time was untainted, filled with trust and honesty. Every time the bond grew stronger, the love cemented and I fell deeper. Then, fear and uncertainty were replaced with hope for a future. I stopped fighting it and finally gave in.

Then I woke up … it was just a dream.

Word Stories


by: dreamer is my middle name
Dark and dreary I enter a maze. The walls are concrete, cold, and grey. As I proceed to walk, the light is softening and getting brighter. The walls turn to windows to what appears to be front row seats to the lives of different people. On one side of the maze I look into a window that shows a couple full of love and adoration. Smiling and twinkling eyes. On the other side is a room with a family full of life and laughter. The next window is full of friends sharing a meal, joking and toasting to their friendship. Yet another window shows a room of creative collaboration amongst colleagues feeding off of each other’s ideas. Room after room full of life, thriving, moving forward, passion and excitement, I couldn’t help but feel jealous and envious. Wondering what my window looked like, wishing it looked like all of theirs. I kept walking with a knot in my stomach and the ache of disappointment taking over my body.

As I kept walking, the lights grew dim, and new windows lined the walls. One window exposed a hospital room with a bald woman in the bed and her husband by her side, holding her hand. Another window peered into a room with a family where the mom and dad are yelling while the kids cover their ears. Yet another room shows a group of friends crying and talking in a circle as if going through an intervention for one of them. As my heart starts to break for all of these people, and the compassion in my heart overwhelms me, it dawns on me that these are the same people that were in the previous windows. The windows of happy lives. Confused at this revelation, I continue down the maze.

A new window appears. I look through it and see myself. I am with family enjoying a meal at a restaurant. Looks like we are having fun. From my view we are one of those happy, loving, full of life families like I saw earlier. I never thought of my life that way. There had been so much hurt. So many disappointments. As I look across the room, I see a window on the other side. I see someone looking in at me and my family. I recognize the look on the viewer’s face. A little bit of envy, a little bit of longing. Wait, I get it. I understand. I have to get to her. I need to tell her. I start walking fast down the hall, my walk turning into a run feeling the urgency rise in me. I had to tell her that it’s not always that way. That my life has ups and downs. That instead of looking and seeing my life as a still picture frozen in time or a scene playing on repeat, that it’s ever changing. It’s a journey that has good and bad, and that no matter how bad it may seem sometimes, that there is always hope, she just has to walk down to the next window and see.