Between Bruises & Blooms
A poetry archive for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.
Welcome to the library. Here you’ll find poetry and reflections rooted in motherhood, grief, love, survival, healing, darkness, nature, and the ordinary moments that refuse to stay ordinary.
Latest Writing
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The Things That Remain
Bleached bone beneath prairie sun becomes a reminder that some forms of beauty survive even after the body is gone.
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He Kept the Songs
Some songs don’t stop belonging to you just because someone changes the dedication. This poem isn’t about ownership—it’s about memory, and how love can echo long after the music changes.
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Home, With an Asterisk
The boys are coming home, but relief arrives carrying supervision, weekends away, and the knowledge that another fight may still be waiting.
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Justice Is Still Face Down
Justice may still be face down in the deck, but hope needs somewhere to rest while court dates keep living in the body.
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The 4 A.M. Household
At four in the morning, every cat in the house has a role to play—and none of them involve letting their human sleep.
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4:20 A.M.
At 4:20 a.m., an old smoke ritual lingers as memory while the sleeping house and a tired mother move toward morning.
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Even Sick, the Morning Comes
Sick or not, motherhood still wakes with bottles, dishes, dogs, medicine, and the quiet strength of doing the next thing.
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3:33
At 3:33, cold coffee, a staring cat, and a candle with no breeze make inspiration feel suspiciously close to haunting.
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The Witching Hour
At three in the morning, the world goes quiet enough for old houses, moonlight, and sleepless women to remember each other’s names.
Stay in the Garden
New poems, new rooms, and whatever blooms next—delivered without making you hunt through the archive for it.
