Makers and Carriers of Fresh Meaning
“Bless the poets, the workers for justice, the dancers of ceremony, the singers of heartache, the visionaries, all makers and carriers of fresh meaning— We will all make it through, despite politics and wars, despite failures and misunderstandings. There is only love.” ― Joy Harjo, U.S. Poet Laureate, Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings: Poems Our new U.S. Poet Laureate Joy Harjo, poet Barbara Buckman Strasko, singer of heartache...
“Have your eyes ever been crossed or turned out?” by Barbara Buckman Strasko, “My DNA” by Judy Catterton, and “Glass Half” by Lachlan Brooks
“Have your eyes ever been crossed or turned out?” by Barbara Buckman Strasko At the eye doctor I hesitate. Each day of my young life I wanted to say what the world looked like to me. And what they said was, Don’t think about that now, don’t see that way, don’t say ─ My great grandmother Rosa Vitoritto Greco remains inside of me a voice that could not speak when she lived. She was left to mind the grocery...
What Do My Ancestors Tell Me?
My generation is now the door to memory. That is why I am remembering. – Joy Harjo, U.S. Poet Laureate It is clear that we share common ground as women, but our many ancestors present a mosaic of exile, diaspora, conquest, survival and triumph. We are women remembering – with pride, grief, curiosity, vulnerability, and, most of all, a desire to reconcile our ancestral stories with our own. What do your ancestors tell you? Find the...
“In the Attic” by Yenigün Batu; “Broken Bough” by Barbara Anne Kearney
“In the Attic” by Yenigün Batu I always will be there, the cat in the attic. My pointed ears are here to listen, the things you won ́t say, but I do understand the beauty And the dimness of your silence pulling me like a black hole. Was I always like that? I don ́t know. I ́d love to listen, you know. So you tell me a story, a piece of sycamore you are made of. Sit down, child, you utter … When was the last time you...
“indigenous to” by Kenna Pearl; “Ascension” by Rosetta DeBerardinis; “Penance” by Katerina Canyon
“indigenous to” by Kenna Pearl there are no traces of the homeland left in me red dashes track a journey back to origin but there is no pin in the map to mark my destination try to follow the toll of a bell that sings your name a name rich with the stories of your family with the stories of your homeland but even our names are not our own just something borrowed by someone stolen while our true names sunk to the bottom of...
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?
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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
