Sunday Morning by Jeanne Bryner
“Sunday Morning” by Jeanne Bryner Mama stands blotting her red lipstick and the tired Bible waits on our gray kitchen table. We have a nickel for the collection plate. We whine because Ben gets to carry the nickel. Ben will drop it, we say. Mama is firm. We wear strawberry pink dresses, the boys wear blue sailor suits. Bacon grease is Mama’s scent. Nancy scrapes cornmeal mush into Sam’s bowl, he gulps. Glass...
My Father on His Deathbed by Cynthia Robinson Young
“My Father on His Deathbed” by Cynthia Robinson Young …except he didn’t have one. His deathbed was an alley street, far away from comfort. He was abandoned, lonely, confused, staring at a needle he had anchored into his arm, not meaning to draw his life out. Staring into streetlights until they become stars, he wonders what will happen next In a world he believed he created with his family, and now believes...
Sweater Girl by Darlene Taylor
“Sweater Girl” by Darlene Taylor I rocked my knees, trying not to pee on myself. Thunder rattled the basement windows. Rain seeped through cracks, glistening on the wall like wet glue. I crossed my legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them again. Unable to hold it any longer, I stood. Girl, Mama said. I need the bathroom, I said. It was a good excuse. When the lady at the Woolworth counter in Richmond said...
Angels and Saints by Chloe DeFilippis
“Angels and Saints” by Chloe DeFilippis She kissed her hand then placed it on the foot of a saint. She lit a votive candle. I did the same. On either side of St. Michael’s Church were tall, plaster statues of Jesus, Mary, and the saints. As a little girl, I thought they’d come to life. I thought this trick—kissing the foot, lighting the candle—meant what my mother told me: If you pray to a saint, they’ll...
Kittens by Chloe DeFilippis
“Kittens” by Chloe DeFilippis The last time my sister hopped the fence to get a ball from our neighbor’s yard, one of the kittens we’d been tracking was dead. Its black furred body was deflated. White foam crusted at the edges of its mouth. Mama told us to stay away from those cats—that their constant hissing meant rabies. We didn’t listen. We weren’t supposed to hop the fence either. When our old neighbors moved,...
This month’s edition of WAVES is dedicated to our creative sisters whose spirits burn for their art while they are in the fight of their lives.
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How is artistic expansion the antidote to our worldly challenges?
Submit Your Art & Writing to WAVES
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We meet each other in waves of light, waves of vision, waves of sound–a studio beyond boundaries.
Creative sisters, shoulder to shoulder, shore to shore.
This time, there is no setting our art aside. This time, there is no setting our art asunder. This is our time.
December 6-7 | oneness | noon to noon EST | dip in and out throughout this twenty-four hour wave
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the antidote Oct 31, 2025
