(Poem) Father Root by Sara Wright
My habit has been to hide once I know he’s around, to deny his presence, the fright that springs from every cell, my body on scream. I harm myself forcing Read More …
My habit has been to hide once I know he’s around, to deny his presence, the fright that springs from every cell, my body on scream. I harm myself forcing Read More …
I left seed for you. A pomegranate too. Would you come Christmas day? The veil was thin last night. This morning Madonna’ s Feathered Body Spoke. When you ran across Read More …
The year my father died I fell in love with beavers. All summer I watched them at dawn and dusk gnaw down the poplars, drag them to the plume, observing Read More …
Yesterday I learned (NPR) that a third of the oak trees in this country will be dead within 50 years; I also read that our sugary harbingers of spring, the Read More …
It interests me that September 30th was declared Truth and Reconciliation Day in Canada because this is the day I was born and this is where I think we need Read More …
When I was about forty years old I discovered a clay deposit on a beach that I visited frequently. Intrigued, I sat down and began working with the river’s gift. Read More …
A horizon belching sooty smoke pollutes once pure air pressing invisible particles, ozone into granite – lichen covered mountains – plant/animal lungs are coated in filth just as ours are. Read More …
I live just down the road from one of our many lakes and ponds here in western Maine. Almost every morning I hear the haunting call of the loons as Read More …
“I wake up under a tropical dome that has been with us most of August. The thick air feels like it is smothering me, and with emphysema that may not Read More …
[Author’s Note: I wrote the prose and poem this morning July 14th for Carol’s blog not knowing at that time that this most compassionate woman, feminist scholar, mentor, friend had Read More …
Old Woman cackled on the wing a pterodactyl with claws crimson black and white a great wind was howling and she was too. Passages she screeched. Her wrath undid me. Read More …
One day last week it almost drizzled. When I stepped outside that morning I was engulfed by fragrant mist. Rarely does light fog give the thirst- driven forest a temporary Read More …
The Light at dawn and dusk breathes gold leaf into blue. Deep emerald, maple wined trees unfurl, impervious to drought. Thrumming sap sings, pulsing red twigs have a heartbeat. All Read More …