Jamie and a met through a writing group I was once involved in. She and her husband were driving through Colorado last summer and needed a place to crash. Boom!

Jamie is one of my kindred spirits. In fact we began our dreadlocks on the same night in October. The full moon.

This woman can also blast out some poetry.

city screams
pour through smoke rafters
as i look to a sky
hazed and unjust
the ache
is in ‘them’
and not ‘us’
and how can ‘i’ know
what ‘they’ must feel?
i can only assume
it is what we all feel, sometimes


maybe mine is metaphysical
(and excruciating)
maybe theirs is physical
(and excruciating)

what conversation would it take
to hold each other’s pain
to witness
the stressed fabric
about to pull apart
knowing we can’t fix it?
what would it take to be

My beautiful friend Jamie
My beautiful friend Jamie