reframing femininity
Last year, one of my clients shared an “I Am From” poem during our session. I was stunned. She invited me into a rich tapestry of precise images, many that I could taste and smell. With each image, I was brought deeper into the soil of where she’s been planted. “I Am From” poems were…
Read More
The downtown central library in San Antonio is lovingly referred to by locals as the “Enchilada.” The color of its skin can only be likened to the chili con carne sauce draped over a steaming plate of enchiladas. There are multiple floors to this library and extensive collections, and the most recent addition is a…
Read More
Against odds spring’s first sign comes winter’s coldest day. Against odds this delicate bloom breaks earth’s strong barrier. Against odds pure, white light shoves the darkness away. Against odds spring cannot come without enduring winter’s cold. Against odds she, like me, was created for this. Marit Krueger has lived in the Seattle area all her…
Read More
We poured ourselves out cupful, bucketful streaming, gushing pumping it out every last ounce
Read More
An icy surface stills the stream beneath. Cold clouds cover up the warming sun. Thick blankets of snow seek to smother daffodils. Puffing winds bluff bird–songs back to nests. But change is there to choose. Will I use my voice to melt the wintry weather? And let His warmth thaw lightness to my life? My…
Read More
I headed across campus and stepped into the student chapel. Spring was erupting, and doors were clumsily propped open to welcome in the breeze. I was on my way to the community outreach office where I led a team of fellow students. I had grabbed my mail on the way and saw an acceptance note…
Read More
To Mary of Bethany, the Patron Saint of Single Women “Everyone in me is a bird, I am beating all my wings” – Anne Sexton We are a strange breed – birds without nests, without young to feed. Starlings. Migratory creatures. We arc the sky in shapes of letters, illuminate, rename this world with our…
Read More
Who waits behind that mask that stares into dark space? Whose eyes plead with yours to rip off the plastic face? Whose hands yank against the cloth that holds them in their place? Whose soul cries out in fear as nightmares come in chase What was that creature’s name before it was a ghost? What…
Read More
Her beauty is an expired passport that once took her many places, her wrinkled fingers flip back through its thinning pages.
Read More
For Lora Once it grew here. Among the things that thrive Green with spring, alive Rooted Reaching fruited limbs on high, To praise a blazing Son.
Read More