Echoes of Home—My Heart by Nsabimana Uwacu Gyslaine
“Echoes of Home—My Heart” by Nsabimana Uwacu Gyslaine I, a Rwandan woman, am a writer, artist, and storyteller, shaped by memory, culture, and the daily realities of life in my village. I am the child of Gakenke, molded by scarcity and the quiet courage of those around me. I am laughter in the market, whispering prayers of my elders, and the rhythm of long walks to school. I am also sorrow, trauma, and the...
Cloud of Unknowing by Susan Austin
“Cloud of Unknowing” by Susan Austin Due to an illness, when I could not write, this art box became a way for me to communicate. The title comes both from H.L. Humes philosophy that lenticular clouds are spiritual beings, and from the Christian mystical text, The Cloud of Unknowing. ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Susan Austin Artist Statement:...
The Q | the antidote
Q: How is artistic expansion an antidote to our worldly obligations?*Responses will be curated and may be shared with permission.Permission* Yes, I give my permission Show Full AgreementBy submitting your response, you are granting AROHO permission for possible publication – in whole or excerpts – in WAVES, which is also archived on our website and may be shared on social platforms.Name* First Last Address* State / Province / Region...
seabed or ocean floor
. . . The journey from the head to hand is perilous and lined with bodies. It is the road on which nearly everyone who wants to write—and many of the people who do write—get lost… Only a few of us are going to be willing to break our own hearts by trading in the living beauty of imagination for the stark disappointment of words… I never learned how to take the beautiful thing in my imagination and put it on paper...
Babcia by Maria Krol-Sinclair
“Babcia” by Maria Krol-Sinclair He sits on a chair asleep feeding his feet to the fire ears gently infected Disease is both treatable and known. But no medicine. 1959 In the thin-wombed world Fever breaking the fence posts of my four year old father Ecstatically; crackingly splitting out and in. The priest came for my father climbed the fourteen steep balcons to bless him cooly. My Babcia, a young Babcia,...
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
