Blackbirds by Karen Heuler
“Blackbirds” by Karen Heuler When my grandparents immigrated, they were very poor and lived for a time near a park with some of their children (it would be years before the whole family could be together). My grandfather went to the park at evening to catch blackbirds for dinner. I guess they ate blackbirds where he came from and it was...
The Refugee by Julie Christine Johnson
“The Refugee” by Julie Christine Johnson 1 used lifejacket 1 passport 1 sunhat Toothbrush Comb Seasickness tablets 200 Euros 200 Turkish liras Three multi-packets of cigarettes With this, and the clothing he wears, he leaves a broken city whose name meant copper in a language time has long since melted down and reshaped. The man’s name, the one thing he carries that no one can steal, is Radwan. ~ 1 eiderdown...
Raqqa, Syria to Crete by Susan Shaw Sailer
“Raqqa, Syria to Crete” by Susan Shaw Sailer Doah’s 19, Syrian, working in Egypt all human beings are born free her own town bombed out and equal in dignity and rights Egypt doesn’t want her they are endowed tries to kidnap and send her back with reason and conscience Decides to go to Europe and should act toward one another pays $2000 for a spot on a fishing boat meant for...
Making Waves in 1798 by Tammi Truax
“Making Waves in 1798” by Tammi Truax “I can tell when Gaja smell water. Can read it in the way she move. This is way a’fore any water’s in sight. She get excited. It’s the only time that she take to walking at a fast clip. Mister like her to go fast.” Solomon whispered as if Mister Owen was within earshot. “He think we travel too slow. Makes more money if we git places faster. But we like the slow walk.” He...
You Are Migrant by Katherine DiBella Seluja
“You Are Migrant” by Katherine DiBella Seluja which is to say you are standing in a line a very long line you are grasping the fist of a child you do not know you will not lose this child you don’t know where this line will lead you but you know well what it took you from you are from Syria, Tunisia, Mexico, Ukraine a sack holds your belongings in other words please God, praise Allah enough to barter for your...
Art is my taste for freedom. I drown day and day until I pick up my paintbrush once again. So, somehow, I can tell myself that you’re not stuck in this room and that the canvas is the key.
Nina Salvadoré
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Seabed or ocean floor? What is the difference?
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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seabed or ocean floor Sep 26, 2025
