An Invitation to Cross the Threshold
. . . Dear Sister Artist, Writer, Reader, Please accept our invitation to a buoyant celebration of the completed publication of Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices, A Room of Her Own’s digital anthology. Savor the ways in which we have each been a voice answering a voice standing on the shoulders of other female voices across time. Cross the threshold, shoulder to shoulder. Paint a new world where our room...
On Wells and Wellness: A Tribute to Amelia Jenks Bloomer by Jennifer Schneider
“On Wells and Wellness: A Tribute to Amelia Jenks Bloomer” by Jennifer Schneider Origins of the word well — Old English wel(l), of Germanic origin; related to Dutch wel and German wohl; related also, most probably, to the verb will. Adopted forms of speech — noun adjective adverb The well remains a source of sustenance. A noun. An adjective. An adverb. Not unlike the way I used, and still wish, to be. I...
Paint a New World Where Our Room is the Waves
. . . We release the assumption that there is only one destination for distinguished arts and letters to paint a new world where our room is the waves Our Anthem _________________________________________________________ Dear Sister Artist, Writer, Reader, Our December edition of WAVES presents the final section of Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices anthology. This transcribed Q&A between the luminous...
Journey Inward by Rebecca Scheckman
“Journey Inward” by Rebecca Scheckman In sum this work is about: Spiritual understanding of the self in the world and connected to everything. Finding a connection to the light within the body that is in everything, that is all things. ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Rebecca Scheckman Artist Statement: My creative identity starts with curiosity...
Newton’s First Law of Gravity by Elizabeth Cohen
“Newton’s First Law of Gravity” by Elizabeth Cohen The gravitational force between two objects is directly proportional to the pull of the earth. So put away that dream of an adopted daughter leaping into the sky of you. Put away your dream of swallows pulling you both into a night sky blinking with stars. Put away the dreams that she might fly back someday to the earth of you. Those swallows were just...
Does the sea remember everything? I wonder.
Does she absorb everything? Does she keep it safe?
Virginia Woolf
. . .
The Q: Can you fathom the spectacle that would be created if we moved together, arms outstretched, close enough to touch?
The Q: What echoes through you that longs to take form—a poem, an image, a mark, a whisper of becoming?
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