Needles by Cheryl Passanisi
“Needles” by Cheryl Passanisi The consequences often involve blood – in my childhood needles were essential, I was given a needle and taught embroidery as a young child and would often poke myself drawing blood, eliciting tears, or the needle dad sterilized with a match to pick out my splinter or all those fairy tales with needles and blood or my grandmother’s knitting needles used to knit us all sweaters,...
The Quiet Roar Like Thunder by Katie Kelleher
“The Quiet Roar Like Thunder” by Katie Kelleher This piece is for the quiet power of the introvert. It speaks to the grace and beauty in observation, thinking, and leadership by example over force. It is the fierceness that is unexpected, resilient, and just. It is about coming into your own power in your own time. ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here ...
The Plum Orphan of Death Fish Bulleted by Shannon Patenoude
“The Plum Orphan of Death Fish Bulleted” by Shannon Patenoude The forest was a collection of plum trees and conifers intertwined in a chaotic mix of vines and rotting leaves which feed the viciously carnivorous insects that inhabited it. Don’t get me wrong, there were other things that lived in the place that encroached this part of the city. Take, for example, deep within was a cabin where I once spent a summer: It is a...
The Day I Reclaimed My Power by Deborah Harris
“The Day I Reclaimed My Power” by Deborah Harris When I can no longer put it off I find myself laying down Tense and anxious to get It over With A hand starts moving over my body Over things That are technically Just skin “I am ready,” I say And I hold my breath And try to curl myself up as Small As I can While My Self Vacates the premises And does not Return Until after It Is over The reclamation of my power Begins As...
Control by Shirani Rajapakse
“Control” by Shirani Rajapakse He tells me my hair isn’t right, straighten it, that’s the fashion. When I do, he’s not satisfied. Rain never falls in straight lines, there are always breaks, pauses between raindrops like hyphens tumbling from the sky. He tells me my hair’s too short, grow it long and thick, tie it back in a braid to fall along the contours of my spine. Women should not look like men. They...