“Suddenly the Sun” by Donna Spector
comes over the hill
behind my house,
lights the sun porch,
turns my orange and yellow
paper flowers to gold,
and even the oriental rug
from Walmart looks
In these times
of turmoil, I am grateful
for any moments when
there is no new news, no tv,
no radio, just two cats
purring in the kitchen,
and my study quiet
and full of dreams.
I came to New York from Berkeley, during the late ’60’s, when I was working on my masters in English and directing a theater troupe called Dementia. We protested the Vietnam war and other injustices. My plays and poems often focus on my Jewish/Protestant family. I’m also a former teacher. – Donna Spector. Find Donna here.
“Room Enough to be Me” by Elizabeth Best
For years, I longed for a room of my own with enough space for body, mind and soul to stand
still, lie low, rant and rave, ride the rodeo of imagination and sing my soul’s song in every range
from the open solar plexus bass of grumbles and groans through the staccato whimpering in the
wake of crashed hopes and intermittent brokenness to the soprano pitch of ululating that greets
everything falling into place at last.
The children are grown so in this new house, the family room is the room I have made my own.
In Dutch, it is my ruim: the hold of the ship of my life. Here I store snacks, books and digital
files to feed the personalities that emerge with every work of art I birth. From its porch
overlooking the creek, I visualize ways to navigate crests and troughs of effort and under-
currents that wreck relationships and capsize expectations. It is an open space with no cross
traffic, a freeway for my mind. Mostly, this room is an Old English
rum: wide and roomy and long – a veritable park for any mood into which I wake or tumble. Within earshot of sycamores
whispering to oaks and the occasional choiring of birdsong, it is a safe place where I can sit for
as long as I want to and rise at intervals to waltz, fox trot, make a salute to the sun or simply
sway, depending on the weather forecast of my spirit.
When I have read enough or thought enough or written enough and I am too tired to do anything
else, this room becomes my cabin, my chamber, my cove with wall to wall carpet and a king size
couch stacked with down-stuffed pillows. From here, through sleep or meditation, I slip into
higher dimensions where I recharge meridians, soothe nerves and replenish creative juices.
Either way I look at it, forward or backward: to room or to moor, I am attached to this space. I
look forward to returning here every day to get my bearings without interruptions, anchor myself
to this PC and prepare to launch myself into my work and my usher my work into the world.
I am a language arts teacher from Barbados, teaching in Louisville, Kentucky. My poetic muse leads me to explore and interpret various spiritual ideals, challenge political assumptions, take a divergent stand on social issues, and emboldens me to create my own frames of reference. – Elizabeth Best
Complement these creative women’s words with art from pioneer feminist artist in Korea, Yun Suk-nam. This piece is titled “Heo Nanseolheon” and is on display at the Seoul Museum of Art. Read more about Suk-nam in “A room of her own” in the Korean Herald here.