Can I recall a time when my resilience surprised me? My mother always said, “If you feel bad, go out into the garden and eat worms.” Sigh. We didn’t have a garden. My resilience. My head hits the counter, as… Read More ›
Poetry
This Story, I Am This Story by Marie Cartier
1. The papaya, the lemon, the squash. The everything going bad—not yet. I can pickle anything I can save—still. And I am never still. Still…at sixty-four here I am. Rise. This is age—still. 2. I have a passport to somewhere… Read More ›
Two Rabbits and the Moon By Sara Wright
The Cottontail watched me climb a steep hill to meet her at the Cross – road. She split the stone. Datura delusions emerge from this bloodline. I stumble down down down… Her feet beat a mourning drum I’m in free… Read More ›
Ancient Mother by Sara Wright
On the path through the pines I see clumps of moss scattered, an old tree trunk is raked as if with claws; clumps of downed bark food for the earth. My heart soars. Wild hope pours through me like… Read More ›
Poem: An Ode for Nurses during a Pandemic by Marie Cartier
— for Alex, a nurse I met who is also a poet, and all nurses I heard that you are a poet and a nurse. I imagine all the nurses who also are something else—a chef, a Mom,… Read More ›
A Ladder to the Stars by Sara Wright
A Ladder to the Stars Every evening at twilight she climbs a ladder to the stars… Venus is her guide … As the Evening star (who also rises at dawn) this Goddess of Love is her Muse. As a woman… Read More ›
Nourishing Wholeness in a Fractured World, by Molly Remer
List for today: Rescue tadpoles from the evaporating puddle in the driveway. Look for pink roses in the field. Look for wild strawberries along the road. Listen to the crows in the compost pile and try to identify them by… Read More ›
Brigit and the Cailleach by Christine Irving
Today, I bring you an old old story from Scotland. It explains how and why winter became spring. Cailleach is another name for the Hag – the archetypal Crone. She represents winter. Brigit is the forever Maiden and stands for… Read More ›
Gaia Delights: Sawbonna Resilience and the Pandemic by Margot Van Sluytman/Raven Speaks
In a recent interview about my current published paper and my life’s-work, Sawbonna, which is a model of both social and restorative justice, I was struck by how being locked down due to this global pandemic not only rips us… Read More ›
Self-calming with Syllable Counting and Rhyme Finding by Elizabeth Cunningham
In times of stress, I like to count syllables. It soothes me the way the click of knitting needles might soothe others. Finding rhymes is also calming. Below are poems in forms that require syllable count and/or rhyme, the last… Read More ›
Persistent Beauty by Molly Remer
I knelt beside a sprinkling of deer fur dotted with delicate snowflakes. Don’t take a picture of that, my husband said, people will think it is gross. I don’t find it gross. I find it curious. I find it surprising…. Read More ›
Walking in Moonlight Before the Pandemic by Marie Cartier and Kimberly Esslinger
For this month’s blog my wife, the poet Kimberly Esslinger, and I have written a joint poem— Walking in Moonlight Before the Pandemic and what is done to the least of these…. Where is the god of woman…. Read More ›
Poem: In These United States is a Woman Electable? by Marie Cartier
In these United States we are wondering if a woman is electable. Is she likeable enough? I donate to a woman candidate and I have put a sign on my front lawn with a woman’s name on it. I’m a… Read More ›
Beth March and the Courage of the Gentle Giver by Cathleen Flynn
As someone who spent my prepubescent years watching director Gillian Armstrong’s “Little Women”, I was eager to see Greta Gerwig’s newly released version. Previously unexplored contours of each character, and of my changed perceptions, were made visible through this iteration…. Read More ›
A Lonely Mystic by Molly Remer
I want to be a lonely mystic dwelling in devotion, constantly dialoging with divinity, drenched in wonder, and doused with delight in knowing my place in the family of things. I want to weave spells from wind and wildness, soak… Read More ›
Fragments of Beauty by Natalie Weaver
Can I empathize with your feeling, your interest in this? Be sound, my heart that feels the beat of yours as my own. I would like to be human one day. Let my prayer be not please, for, I fear… Read More ›
Imagine. A Relationship. by Karen Leslie Hernandez
Imagine. A relationship. So painful. So needed. Never. What it needs. To be. Yet the Desire. For what. For what. Imagine. A relationship That’s not. Doesn’t exist. Isn’t. A relationship That strives To go. No where. A relationship Of fear…. Read More ›
Double, double… rhymes are trouble by Katie M. Deaver
I never considered myself one of those people who gets really “into” Halloween. But, as one might expect having an eight year old, especially an eight year old who celebrates her birthday shortly before the holiday, has made me much… Read More ›
Personal Musings by Deanne Quarrie
If I Tell You If I tell you what I feel Don’t be offended or take on some sort of guilt. If I tell you what I feel Don’t think that my feelings imply blame. If my feelings rise to… Read More ›
THREE POEMS OF LIFE by Janet Maika’i Rudolph
As Above So Below Yes, I believe we are made in god’s image. If god is the wild, passionate, loud, sexual, sizzling, dancing fires of creation. And should I ever forget my fiery, heavenly vision, the sun comes out every… Read More ›
#GunControlNow: While We Still Have Now by Marie Cartier
If you are somewhere: a movie theater, festival, mosque, temple or church, bar (especially a gay one although it could be any bar –cheers), concert, elementary to college classroom, or any other public space in America…and someone starts shooting, shooting… Read More ›
To My Grandchild by Karen Leslie Hernandez
You’re not born yet. You’re still an idea A thought. Yet I think of you often. I hope for you. I wonder what life will be like For you. When you arrive Will each breath Be easy? Will you have… Read More ›
Don’t Think About That – a poem of motherhood in this wounded world by Trelawney Grenfell-Muir
Get the kids out the door to swim Sunscreen, lots of sunscreen Summer’s worse every damned year Deadly heat waves are killing people as our civilization begins to crumble Don’t think about that, gotta remember to fill water bottles Pack… Read More ›
Our Lady is on Fire by Sara Wright
I entered the Silent Tomb; the Mosque felt devoid of Presence. We wandered through a myriad of glorious arched rooms, ornately carved woodwork – soft carpeted floors. Removing our shoes we spoke softly in deference to Something ineffable? Each tiled… Read More ›
Slippery Package: A prayer poem by Isabella Ides
She speaks a various language. Bound in the bardo bereft vaguely present, almost dead. For fucking shining aloud let me back in. Come again, sweet terror Carve my shadow on your cave walls Render me a soul, source me… Read More ›
Superstorm (a poem of feminist rage) by Trelawney Grenfell-Muir
Sometimes it whirls together, a superstorm of pain and despair, and the shittiness of it all is just too damned much to bear girls and women beaten, raped, abused, and all you nice guys don’t care and my little daughter… Read More ›
Seed Bearer by Sara Wright
Yesterday old eyes stung – fierce white heat – blurred vision. Singing love songs, I scattered seeds in furrows raked smooth, tucked tufts under stone… Imagining a Wildflower riot! Bittersweet orange, blue and gold winding through rice grass – sage… Read More ›
Elk Speaks – For Andrew by Sara Wright
In the dream the elk’s antler was a tree made of bone. Silvery tines – tongues of flame hummed at dawn. “Embodied Light.” I would use these words, if asked to describe my young friend’s personality. But words fall short… Read More ›
A Lament by Karen Leslie Hernandez
Dear World. You are On fire. Why Do you condone Time And time Again The guns The hate The greed The violence The oppression. Why do you not speak For all.
When the Cranes Come by Sara Wright
Departure. I stood deep in a toad hole slinging mud at twilight when the sky turned lemon and gold. They arced over my head in pairs, loose aggregations – it seemed like thousands crying out, crossing the river. Ensouled. Spirits… Read More ›
