Blue Goddesses by Laura Chaignon
“Blue Goddesses” by Laura Chaignon I was not born cross-legged Or blue Not like Shiva or Amma But I will give you my love I will put my lips on your wounds Swallow the puss Gorge on your pain I am no saint I do not preach You do not need to kneel Oh, I will kneel And liberate you From the suffering I will hug the demons out of you My love is a roaring river Melting ice, unstoppable Raging It does not hum...
The Woman Who Picked Me Up by Antonia Clark
“The Woman Who Picked Me Up” by Antonia Clark had slammed on the brakes of her rusty Dodge, deciding to pull over, after all had streaked hair and muddy boots, a lazy eye and, once in a while, a wistful look had a gallon of milk and a six-pack, a torn map, and a hammer on the seat between us had to have been under 30, but claimed she was no spring chicken in dog years had her radio tuned to country and tried...
Woman Warriors: Babae/Babaylan by Aimee Suzara
“Woman Warriors: Babae/Babaylan” by Aimee Suzara Babae = girl or woman Babaylan = a shaman of ancient times who is usually two-spirited Dalaga = a young woman Diwata = a spirit of nature and the trees. Babae Babaylan Dalaga Diwata Women are the healers mothers sisters and daughters Lorde Angelou Kingston and Assata Words to nourish nations like mecca and water Babae Babaylan Dalaga Diwata Women are the...
Wild Faith by Karla Morton
“Wild Faith” by Karla Morton All angels, good and bad have the power of transmutating our bodies – St. Thomas Aquinas This is how we claim life – a little wild yet, transformed by drinking rain from wolf prints. We are pack stalking. We are women walking. There is not much difference between woman and wolf, the love of the hunt, the steady cadence, the stare of black-lined eyes. Even the square...
Anne Frankenstein by Deborah Thompson
“Anne Frankenstein” by Deborah Thompson When I open my journal, Anne emerges from her hiding place to hover at my shoulder. Does this happen to all female Jewish writers? I began to keep a journal at age 11 after reading The Diary. I named my journal Anna. “Dear Anna,” I’d write, and then describe my pre-teen travails to Anne Frank in her voice. “Terri Goodman whispered to Amy Bloom in the temple carpool that...
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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fathoms Feb 28, 2026 -
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