Don’t open your eyes
Try not to see
Things are no longer
Where things ought to be
That voice—is it her?
Behind a closed door
She calls you a stranger
Your mother no more
Breathe through the moment
Turn, turn your eyes
The past you imagined
Was all lies, lies, lies
Things are no longer
Where things ought to be
Who is this stranger
Is it still me?
This is my mixed media painting, titled The Door to My Childhood
"This radiant book is an exploration of the bond between a daughter and father and the book overflows with some of the most eloquent poetic moments in print. HOME is an invitation, a very personal one, and should not be passed over."
- Grady Harp, Hall of Fame Reviewer
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