Fred’s words are beautiful, heavy, necessary, enlightening, sad and important. So grateful he’s chosen to share them with us.
These are my favorite poems from this book:
Session II: You Still Try | Page 47
In the belly of your heaviest days
Shadows dance as if they swallowed the sun.
When trauma's ghosts threaten to erase desires you penciled in,
And heartache makes a home in the marrow of your bones, Sit with me, so we might hold a séance to resurrect your joy.
Let's trace a map of our existence, Invisible routes inked in the language of survivors.
Our scars are not catacombs
but star clusters, bridging nights to dawn.
How do we make sense of it all?
Listen to the stubborn hum of our heartbeats.
Like oak trees choked by a storm, with limbs bent and bark ragged— you are still here.
Among glass shards of disappointment, in the throes of loss and mausoleums built of regrets, nestled deep in the trenches of daily tragedies, you still dream. You still try.
See how you have weathered tantrums of grief and agony, those wild children, biting and clawing,
leaving welts upon your soul that bloom into resilience.
Your hands are not the remnants of rin
they are star-kissed, constellation-etched,
each line a proud declaration, each callus a song:
We alive, beloved.
At the Edge of Eternity | Page 60
In the quiet, you are there.
Your breath: a secret on the edge of sound dancing in the wind's whispers. A keepsake of a voice that sings to me. A reminder: atoms do not surrender to death.
Instead, they waltz beyond and with us,
a ballet of constancy woven through the fabric of time.
Our harmonies exist in the silence between heartbeats, Here, now, cradled in the past's palm, flowing to the ear of the future.
At the end, as in the beginning, our atoms remain undefeated.