The Travels and Rants Journal

Sometimes a person gets stuck. Stuck somewhere in the crack between happy and sad.

I am looking forward
Toward the shadows tracing bones
Our faces stitched and sewing
Our houses hemmed into homes
Trying to be thankful
Our stories fit into phones
And our voices lift so easily
A gift given accidentally
When we’re not sure
We’re not alone

-Wilco, “You Are My Face”