A poem by Darren Weeks Feelings of apprehension and dreadimpending doom, an aching headtossing and turning at night in bedIs there any escape for the weary? Sick with worry in the pit of the gutslipping toward the worst of luckthorns in the side of my flesh get stuckIs there any escape for the weary? Sympathies…

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I wrote this poem during a very stressful time in my family. My daughter was going through a somewhat rebellious stage and was making some very bad choices. There is often a time in young people’s lives when the wisdom of their parents is not only challenged, but disregarded. Our attempts to communicate seem to…

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