Threshold: On Breath, Grief, Creativity, and the Ones Who Walk Us Home Dogs & Best Friends A Threshold Story of Breath, Loss, and the Ones Who Stay Oh, I’ve been trying to write this blog for a very long time. I’m a blogger, right? Well… not exactly. I’m chaotic, if anything. Consistently inconsistent. I’m the […]
Author: Lira Wren
The Ghost in My Playlist
“The deepest ache isn’t in silence itself, but in words that remain unseen. To be seen is not vanity—it’s release, it’s healing, it’s proof that what we carry matters.”
Still Loading…
Life is, indeed, spectrum and humor, right?
Have you checked your happiness meter yet?
Reflections | Opportunities | Reload
The Rings of a Climbing Tree
Then it came.
We became shadows—
years, decades—
but she had held our stories in her rings.
One of Those Summers
Play like the score doesn’t matter.
POP
“Wind and Storm may erupt us but we are our strength.”
PUFF, I am in that strength.
Eyes From A Potato
It’s these mornings past—when you know you should write a blog. Life’s been too busy. All numbers and money. All frustration and fury. Sunday mornings should be the laziness of steam off my coffee, the breath of namaste. Yet I feel a sloth of wooden gears splintering through my brain. Lily’s sickness in the night… the
Old Finds: The Least of These
I stood among three lives:
Is it so with people too?
That the most intuitive among us—those who say little but change everything—are given the smallest price tag?
Rabbit Holes
Rabbit Holesby Lira WrenDoo doo doodling…How many of you have gotten lost down a rabbit hole?I found myself researching the diving speed of penguins versus puffins — well, you know — because, facts. Knowing my puffins rule, I decided to compare puffin speed to penguin speed. Omitting the outlier of the Gentoo penguin — who […]
The Music Box
I searched in earnest, at last,
I found the box—
but not her, my beautiful ballerina.
I longed to see her dance again.
Music rose, velvet glowed,
my heart lifted…
but only my reflection gazed back.
And then—
I saw it.
She was never in the box.
She was always in me
Summertime Bubbles
When I see that old, cheap bubble gum—
you know the blue, yellow, and orange in the traditional wrapper, twisted at both ends;
the kind whose flavor lasts only a moment before vanishing—
I’m instantly taken bac
A Hole That Was Never Empty
Kindness doesn’t always show up to fix. Sometimes, it shows up to invite.