Hope by Sheryl Wentworth Woods Every blade of grass Has its angel that bends Over it and whispers “Grow, grow.” The Talmud Hope is what gets me out of bed each morning. Like liquid faith, it fills the black emptiness. Unrelenting and steadfast, it pushes one foot in front of the other, whispering in my… Continue reading Hope by Sheryl Wentworth Woods
My Personal Journey as a Trauma Survivor
I Walk with a Limp 