It was the abused children and Anne Frank during my elementary years. High school was for racism and undergrad was for classism.
Grad school was for the impoverished.
Late twenties was for death and mother earth.
Early thirties was for animal suffering.
This a timeline of my sorrows: The source of deep sunken tears when my thoughts turn dark and lonesome. 
I have this place where my sorrows stir. Where if I wallow too long, I get stuck in the muck.
The only way out is…
…a moment in the presence of the amazing
…laughter at the absurd
…a dream reawakened by the hope that someday…one day…
…forgiveness in the arms of the Most Patient Above.
…the tiny spark of love
anxious to ignite
a simple glance to the light
to scatter my fright.
(Post written in 2014-February)
Miss Corrigan 