I am like the sun

envying the moon for her

splendid light and woe

©Dorhora. All rights reserved.

'full moon madness'  http://goo.gl/VOs89H

‘full moon madness’


A Meditation

Broken is as broken does; there is no shame in it, only the rise after the fall. It will quicken you to wholeness and recovery, for it is the furthest thing from pure satisfaction and delight. There is no calm in it; no acceptance, only a blinding desire to gain healing in the shape of unconditional love, a rejuvenated spirit and uninterrupted rest. Brokenness is the first step of transformation, rebirth…you have nothing to fear.

“Tell Them It’s OK to Talk About the [Depression]”!

Racing thoughts. Negative Assumptions. Overwhelmed. Fearful. Angry. Enraged. Hurt. Broken. Tired. Unfocused. Sad. Forgetful. Impulsive. Euphoric. Careless. Fearless. Desperate. Any or all of these are experienced at some time or another by an individual suffering from some form of Depression. If you know of anyone experiencing these symptoms on a regular basis, please reach out to them. Depression can and will impair one’s judgment, personal outlook, self-view, personal relationships, work life, home life, etc. Depression is a real illness; it is not a figment of one’s imagination. It is not boredom. It is not a bad day. It is not a sign of a lack of faith. And prayer alone, walking in the park or listening to music (or even writing) will not always erase the continued pain and other symptoms. In more cases than not, both regular talk therapy and prescribed medication that directly addresses the individual’s particular symptoms can and will help save a life.  Please help a friend or loved one seek the help that they need before it’s too late. It’s okay. It’s really okay to talk about Depression.

And it doesn’t hurt to listen either.  Learn more.*


Shell Revealed. Photo by quadrapop. http://goo.gl/zUNjDX

Euphoria Mine

and when the last wave
crashed upon the sand
I sung a dirge quietly

and buried the sunset
in my memory


I talked with God
as He watched me sleep

among a litter of
broken seashells

© ivy ford deshield. 2013. all rights reserved.


*About two-thirds of people with major depression never seek appropriate treatment.

The World Health Organization ranks depression as one of the world’s most disabling diseases. Yet with treatment, 70% of people with clinical depression can improve, often in a matter of weeks.

*Source: Web MD

The Magic of Joy

Regarding his job, a friend recently expressed to me that “It’s not work really work if you’re having fun…” Hearing this expression before, I never truly believed in its magic until I saw the joy on my friend’s face as he described his twelve-hour days with the same pleasure that a child recounts awaking on Christmas morning. In that same moment, I was truly happy for him and would honestly wish him nothing else than more work hours in his Christmas stocking. This being said, I now know exactly what I want for Christmas and every single day of the New Year: pure JOY from the everyday. And it doesn’t need to be boxed, wrapped or tied with a bow. I want this present delivered with the early morning sunrise and find me thankful still and ready to give more even after the most trying of days. And as I sleep, I wish to know its warm embrace, satisfying me like the greatest of lovers. Jobs, friends, and love can be but a moment, but joy is forever. I do not know in what form this joy will arrive or when, but it will surely come; and I lift my heart in every direction in wait for the gift that keeps on giving.

I Was Thinking

I Was Thinking

At break point
Will I split wide open into two fractured selves

or will I implode masterfully
Sucking the energy of all passerby souls
into my ever–spinning ear–splitting
Gluttonous void

I see extinction living here like chronic dust
Three–dimensional matter piling their sins
into a one–dimensional room – I can only
bring question

For nothing is certain
but death

under a flaming red sun
or a dry silver–white moon

©Dorhora. 5-16-13. All rights reserved.

Broken Pieces Collected



Last night

I slipped through my ghost

and my broken song echoed

from the other side

©Dorhora. 6-8-13. All rights reserved. 


The (smallest) pieces of a heart

If this was written for you

you must catch the tiny pauses

and never mind the slow breaks


It is nothing and everything

when you rub your little finger

back and forth across my callus

like ritual


I marvel at this

and the broken song

you whispered in your sleep

 ©Dorhora. 6-8-13. All rights reserved. 





Snap. The infinite power we have over ourselves is often overlooked in the quest to control and change other people and situations. Snap. There is nothing more difficult in this world than placing mind over matter. Snap. Last night, I woke up for the first time. Today, I am shrugging off the harnesses and breaking protocol with the status quo. Snap. Just as I eat, drink and take shelter, I will write. A desire that must be satisfied with every waking moment is a need. Snap. So fulfill it, I will. And in doing so, I will reclaim the power to make decisions that benefit my welfare and artistry. I will not feel guilty for placing self above others. I will not apologize for attitudes, thoughts and behavior that may clash with the road most taken. I will understand my dominion over things that matter little and those that matter most. I will know that it is okay to walk away from my commitments, job, and relationships if they become barriers to my happiness and well-being. It is not just enough to live anymore, but it is everything to live as fully well and satisfied as possible. Snap. And there is nothing wrong, but everything right, in this. Snap. This is not to say that every action will or should be excused in terms of gratifying the self. There is a level of selfishness that will surface, and there will be casualties. Accusations will be thrown, and eyebrows will raise. But there is no getting around such socially engineered reactions, so why bother curbing wellness to avoid them. Snap. I have to remember that I am central here, not special, just the author of the rest of my life. It can be an unspectacular and ordinary role but a most important one. I will not take it lightly. And I will not allow anyone else to control the reigns. What I make of my life will be my glory to savor or my fault to digest. Snap. But I will pen each moment as best I know how. I will be both the poet quiet and unknown and the one unrestrained in living color. The voice unafraid of social constructs and dissension; I will acknowledge and respect both the anarchist and pacifist for both run rampant through my veins. I will be strong yet undefinable. There is too much responsibility and pressure in definition and frameworks. The latter two need a certain mold that I have never fit. I enjoy freedom too much and the power to decide my status from moment to moment. Snap. My future is ready and waiting for me as I write this piece. I do not know if I will return to this space again. But if I do, it will be with a different voice, ever-changing. Snap. A new purpose. Snap. New words overwriting past lives with power, pain and glory in every stroke of the pen. So, here I am. Snap.