. . .
But to write poetry or fiction, or even to think well, is not to fantasize, or to put fantasies on paper. For a poem to coalesce, for a character or an action to take shape, there has to be an imaginative transformation of reality that is in no way passive. And a certain freedom of the mind is needed – freedom to press on, to enter the currents of your thoughts like a glider pilot, knowing that your motion can be sustained, that the buoyancy of your attention will not be suddenly snatched away.
Adrienne Rich
. . .
Submit Your Art & Writing to WAVES
“Untitled” by Ellen Peckham
_________________________________________________________
Suddenly sentient but unaware of who she is
or where. First sense of being, her skin,
as her hair caresses, her feet touch moss.
Yet aware of purpose and curious.
She meanders, reaching, fingering, tasting.
Attracted to some drifting objects, she gathers them.
Feathers molted (though there are not yet
word for it) and binds them in vines; a cape.
Her first act of creation. She is born to it.
Perhaps, had she not been offshoot of a rib,
she and her daughters for eternity
might have been purely creators.
“Eve” by Ellen Peckham
_________________________________________________________
We found the devil’s darning needles recounted in bedtime stories
by the grandest people of all – our parents and theirs, dreaming
out loud what they heard by firesides and woodstoves, places
where proper meals were made, sparks flying up from logs
burned to embers, banked against the night fled into by souls
in search of everything lost, found in a single visit to the valley
hidden away amongst the shoulders of hills begging to be climbed;
behind them their cousins, the mountains, blue with rock and ice
and white with snows that nourish all the creeks and streams
that flow to make the one river we all come back to after all,
racing through the valley, searching, finding what was once lost
in the blink of ages.
“Valley River” by Ethel Mays, from Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices
“Sometimes We Meet” by Rochelle Shicoff
_________________________________________________________
We are all fluid, made from water, constantly in motion, seeking our own level. Nothing hinders us, as we part and flow and erode what others might perceive as obstacles.
Laura Jean Schneider
. . .
WAVES ALIVE
a sacred space for creative intention
Join us:
July 18 | September 19 | October 17 | November 21
Imagine what would change if we cast aside our lines to swim in mother waters.
_________________________________________________________
“… in my heart [this piece] belongs to Waves and nowhere else.”
– Niloufar Behrooz
Do you have a piece whose heart belongs to WAVES?
Our invitation to submit and receive is free.
WAVES ALIVE | a different way of being
