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Inventory
The Adam’s apple in old photographs,a hard comma in the throat’s soft sentence. Shoulders built for a doorwayyou never meant to walk through. The particular wrongness of a swimsuit,size medium, women’s,purchased with shaking handsand worn like a confession. A binder’s compression at 6 a.m.,ribs remembering all daywhat they were flattened for. The five-o’clock shadowrising like…
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Peace
There are daysI think peace is a place other people were given directions towhile I was handed endurance instead. I have searched for itin sanctuaries stained with sunlight,in the silence after midnight prayers,in the hollow ache of hotel rooms,in the sound of waves folding themselves against the shorelike God still believes in repetition. I have…
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To the One I Am Learning to Love
I used to think love was something waiting for me in another’s hands,a gift wrapped in someone else’s approval,a tender look across a crowded room,a whisper at midnight telling me I was enough.I thought love would arrive dressed in someone else’s voice,carrying me away from my own silence.But here I am,after all the years of…
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To The Companion I Never Chose
You have been my most faithful companion.Not the one I prayed for.Not the one I wanted.But the one who keeps showing up anyway,uninvited,unapologetic,unyielding. You are with me when the room is full.When the laughter rises.When glasses are lifted, and plates are passed,and conversations hum like fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.You arrive then, when I am surrounded.You…
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To My Body, Still Sacred, Still Mine
You and I…we’ve had a complicated relationship. For years, I tried to ignore you,reshape you,deny you,pray you into something else.I called you broken.I called you a mistake.I treated you like a costume I had to wear to survive. And yet—you stayed. You carried me through the days when I didn’t want to live.You held every…
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To the Day I Stopped Pretending I Was Okay
I remember you.Not the exact date on a calendar, but the feeling—like something inside me gave way.Like the scaffolding I had built to hold everything togetherjust… buckled. I had been holding so much for so long.The grief.The fear.The shame.The exhaustion of smiling through pain,of showing up for others while disappearing inside myself. I wore “okay”…
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To A Life Built on Expectations
Before I ever spoke my truth, I memorized theirs. I was born into a world that handed me a script before I could read. The lines were already underlined, the stage already set:Be strong.Be successful.Be normal.Be straight.Be a man. And I—ever the good student—did everything I could to meet them. There was no room for…
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To the Camera That Helped Me See Beauty
You were just an object.Metal.Glass.Plastic.Buttons and dials.A tool made for capturing light. But to me,you became more than a tool.You became a companion.You became a teacher.You became a lifeline. I picked you up in a seasonwhen I was drowning.When the weight of my own thoughtspressed too heavy on my chest.When I could not find a…
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When You Said I Wasn’t Welcome
You said it with the certainty of scripture,as though the breath of God Himselfhad passed through your lipsto declare me unworthy.Not stranger. Not enemy.But one of your own. Your dismissal cut cleaner than doctrine—not a theological quibble,but a blade slipped between ribs,twisting where love once lived.The same mouth that once whispered carenow spits me out…
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Montana Sky
The dock was small,weathered by summers before me,its boards silvered and warmbeneath the press of my back.It reached just far enoughto carry me past the reedsinto the hush of open water. I would lie there,the lake lapping soft against the posts,dragonflies stitching the stillness,a breeze carrying pine and sunlight.And above—the wide Montana skyspilled out its…
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Unwritten by Others
I used to chase the shadows castBy eyes that judged, by echoes past—Each step I took, a measured beatTo win applause, not feel defeat. I wore the masks they deemed just right,A practiced smile, a face polite.But buried deep beneath that showWas someone only I could know. No mirror framed my truest face,Just fragments shaped…
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The Rhythm of Her Days
She once moved like a Montana river,always flowing and never emptied of energy,rocking babies in moonlightwith hands that never asked for rest. The nights were never hers.They belonged to fevered foreheads,to cries in the dark,to lullabies sung with cracked lipsand half-closed eyes.Her dreams were stitchedbetween diaper changes and midnight prayers for teenagers,while the world slept…
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Fear’s Shadow, Loves Light
I walked through years beneath a shroud,Hiding truths, I dared not say aloud.A mask of safety, a borrowed disguise,Shielding my soul from piercing eyes. The world seemed cruel, its judgment sharp,Each whisper felt like a cutting harp.I danced to tunes not meant for me,A caged bird dreaming of being free. I feared the loss, the…
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I’m Out
I’m out — no longer hiding in borrowed light, No more folding my truth into corners of night. I’m out — like dawn when the shadows release, A quiet rebellion that feels like peace. I’m out — with a heart that has learned how to stand, Not asking permission to be who I am. I’m out — where…
G R A C H E K
Dee Grachek is an author and Presbyterian pastor whose work explores faith, authenticity, identity, and hope through fiction, memoir, and spiritual writing.
Drawing on a life of ministry and personal transformation, Dee writes emotionally honest stories that invite readers to discover grace, courage, belonging, and the enduring power of unconditional love.
Dee is passionate about helping others find the courage to live authentically and discover a God whose love is wider than our fears, with writing marked by emotional honesty, theological depth, and an abiding conviction that every person’s story matters.