What to do when the very season of

spring and new beginning is strewn with


Cancer’s ravenous appetite takes vibrant women in the middle of their lives;

teens perish in school and on the street;

innocents breathe their last in a poisonous gas.

How do we catch breath

when that thin veil is ripped open

and we know that we are dust?

What is beloved in this frail world

is like the white lily:

gleaming and fragrant.

We cannot stop decay but we can love.

Let the beauty stun you into silence.

Breathe in rain-sweetened mist

and dance until your knees wobble.

Hold hands.

In the midst of grief,

perhaps laughter will spill out

and gratitude will sing through us.

©️Laurie Lynn Newman



Did you know that even when

you look away,

even when you are distracted by


beauty exists

like potential energy lying in a log

just waiting for you

to pause and to be warmed

with wonder?

©️Laurie Lynn Newman


Our meeting was the blaze of sun

stunning with joy.

Flooding light into the unloved crevasses.

Wild shimmer of soul, sensuous selves,

we lit up the world,


In moon-glow: tender talk

and transforming touch.

Timeless and real.

And then, one summer noon,

my head rested on your shoulder.

Your hand gripped my knee.

You drew your last breath.

Oh, Sun, where did you go?

Profound silence in the infinite dark.

But now, I see. For us,

Death is only an eclipse.

Love still shines.

©️Laurie Lynn Newman


The touch that hovers,

delicately dancing as a bee

over tender tendril.

The words thought,

but withheld,

a kind forbearance.

The thought

of oneself, held

in a mental embrace,

warm with thanks.

A pace of moving

through the hour and day,

pausing to notice

how the daffodil is

emerging through

damp earth.

An intention to see

the humanity and

good in each one.

All this, the fruit of that

precious quality of


©️Laurie Lynn Newman

At Home

Perhaps you yearn for

adventure to take you by the lapel

and lead into the new?

Do you crave the body-mind rush

that thrills, when

you step into the unfamiliar,

wake to new sounds,

breathe in foreign scents

and taste with gusto,

feel the embrace of

a fresh love?

And yet, there is also

not much that warms us more

than the feeling of being

home, and content.

It is the shuddering breath

you take when you know,

at your core that you are loved.

Dance the graceful steps from journey there

and back again.

Move gracefully, or take it step by raggedy step.

But always know that the place  you are

is home.

You are enough.

This moment.

Right now. You are



Looking Out

When the cold is upon us;

and we cannot muster

the memory of sweet-scented daphne

in the frigid breeze;

When daytime hours are brief

and daylight is a watery canvas

for the stark tree-branches;

perspective matters,


Are we watching the storm

from the safety of home,

peering out through the glass pane,

warmly-clothed, fire-

crackling and comfy?

Or is our view from

the huddled corner,

minutes ticking down to

nightfall and the freeze;

Wary because we will be

ousted from our spot

if noticed?

Are we looking in?

Or looking out?

Will there be a way

to see from

the same


©️Laurie Lynn Newman

It Is. . .

The rusted garbage can

was hand-lettered in red paint:

“It is what it is.”

Years ago, I had a friend who

repeated this phrase,

an irritating mantra

that wedged under my thin skin

like an uncomfortable burr.

I could only see the limitation.

But now, after months and sometimes

years of magical thinking,

I let that wisdom

ring through my being like

a crystal bell:

It is what it is,

in all the beauty, terror, loss, tenderness

and wonder.

And maybe the experience

that I am tempted to stuff

into the garbage can and forget:

perhaps even there is a pearl of wisdom.

“It is what it is” does not stifle hope.

It gives ground to creativity,

and to deeper


if we say


©️Laurie Lynn Newman