by Deb Farris | May 13, 2018 | Family, Musings, Poetry
Like the new moon your face shines unseen. Your past now hidden in clouds of recollections. But as the sun streams through your smile in my dreams, you shatter the stars and light hearts for all eternity. Photos of my late parents by Janet Lew Carr at Danceworks...
by Deb Farris | Feb 23, 2018 | Musings
I open the door for a morning walk for the last time in Tucson with confidence that you are about to head home too, but with a confluence of emotions. I sweep away the dead leaves and twigs from the orange tree that have fallen since I swept yesterday. I want the road...
by Deb Farris | Feb 13, 2018 | Devotions, Poetry
When the world’s weight rests on top the weary-wounded what have they to do? Climb higher on the wire up towards heaven’s view. With words they weep for the afflicted, for they know affliction. And in their pain, songs of mercy sing. So you there; lost in...
by Deb Farris | Feb 9, 2018 | Musings
For a moment, I watched to see if your eyes would open. You were resting. I didn’t want to disturb you so I walked around to the side of the bed to just look into your sweet face. Your arms and hands were so pale, but even after all you had been through, your face was...
by Deb Farris | Jan 30, 2018 | Musings
You walked with me that day even though you had a blister covering the corner of your heel from our hike the day before. The Tucson sun beat down on the exposed skin of your neck and calves, turning them pink even though you took extra care with the sunscreen. But the...
