Hazel Hoyle
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The Sand Between My Toes 
"The broken hearts I witnessed during my six-year tour on the eastside of Vancouver stem from a million different threads and a million true stories of difficulties and afflictions rooted so deeply, even back to the womb - ultimately all a product of persons not receiving love.
This is one reason I wrote the story, the Sand Between My Toes: to connect with the broken-hearted and to offer a remedy, a cure, a hope, a healing, a new life, a belief in oneself, a certainty for all to discover and know: 'You are loved.' " - hazel hoyle, author
The Sand Between My Toes183 pages. Category: poetry, religion, spirituality, literature, humanities, social sciences.
The Sand Between My Toes tells the story of a young woman who is struggling to find peace in a world, thus far soiled by abusive relationships and substance addictions. Through an emotionally impacting Six-Part series of chronological poetry, we experience her journey as she follows true love and is gradually healed.
We also discover a secret to living a life free of this world's pain.
Inside the Sand Between My Toes
Prologue
Part I: Torn and Breaking
Part II: a change in the wind
Part III: Chapter's Turning
Part IV: His Spirit Breathes
Epilogue
Why this book is a 'must have' for ESL Students
The Sand Between My Toes Sample Reading Click Here.
Hazel Hoyle is a published author, an aspiring screenwriter and a business owner residing in Vancouver BC; Canada.
When she is not writing, Hazel spends much of her time developing and operating her two businesses Vancouver4Life® Corp and Electric-Marketer.com.
She also spends considerable time creating music and song, enjoying nature and the outdoors, plus exploring life with her little daughter.
*More about Hazel Hoyle click here
*Hazel's CV - click
The Sand: Table of Contents click here
covered in stains
Where do heaven’s bright angels go
when the world so far below
has fallen into the pits of fire.
The series of anguish.
The restless desires.
the crazed, lonely slayers of sanity
drifting through life at the speed of
sound as sirens scream and red voltage pulsates
through electric air.
Even the moon was red the other night
It shone a clear path upon the water.
Beckoned us to walk.
Like we could. Indeed we might.
Reflections of electric red voltage
or bloodshot eye ducts tears run dry.
Pools of empty.
Shades of silence screaming at my soiled conscience
about moments of pleasure followed by lifetimes
of pain and guilt and hatred for myself.
My lowly loathing earthly flesh.
surrounded by temptations. Surrounded by the fright. The evil overcomes me. Again.
My glory hides behind their eyes.
The angels who visit those not sleeping. (slipping)
Shelter those who are weeping
not for themselves, but for they, the world, the plight. The very sight
of it all.
if only briefly, could they weep for me?
my stains. my stains.
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