reframing femininity
“Off with their heads!” the short-tempered, fiery-haired female screeched. My mind recalls watching “Alice in Wonderland” as a young, impressionable girl. I was fascinated by the whimsical story, enthralled by my childhood curiosity. Now a mature woman, my curiosity pulls me back to the scene when Alice meets the Queen of Hearts. I ponder why…
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Considering the avid reader I was during my childhood and adolescence, it still surprises me that I never read The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. It wasn’t until the theatrical release of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in 2005 that I finally took my first trip to Aslan’s country. I remember feeling…
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I come from an accomplished family. My mother and father have done well for themselves. My brother’s a doctor, and my sister’s in environmental science. It’s the kind of family in which there’s an unspoken expectation of concrete careers and a certain prestige.
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A long time ago, I read. I read books I paid for that I wouldn’t need to review, to interview the author, or to underline because I was studying the plot structure. A long time ago, I wrote. I journaled, sent newsletters, started blogs (five and counting), and submitted articles. A long time ago, I…
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I am numb, mindlessly scrolling. Familiar businesses post new guidelines for safety. The words “contactless” and “social distancing” impact me. I am surprised by an ache and try to make space for her.
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars . . . .”– 2 Corinthians 4:7 (NLT) Why do I try so hard to be Intact— to hold together these shards even as I watch fragments fall through my fingers, sharp edges stinging my thin skin,…
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The massive gray whale lingered In a moment of suspended animation as She is ascending from the ocean floor up To exchange a drag of air The vast navy blue depths hold her Weightlessly Effortlessly
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Sadness swims inside of me. Doing the backstroke across my heart. Flipping and repeating, gracefully kicking backwards as it observes where it has been.
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Holy ground, where are you now? The place Jesus stood before the High Priest… Do you still remember?
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In Her Image I am a dissident daughter No one taught me, God is my Great Mother War alive in my mind Starvation in my desecrated heart
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