For each of us as women, there is a dark place within, where hidden and growing our true spirit rises…Within these deep places, each one of us holds an incredible reserve of creativity and power, of unexamined and unrecorded emotion and feeling. The woman’s place of power within each of us is neither white nor surface; it is dark, it is ancient, and it is deep.
Audre Lorde
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The deepest treasure is the silence, eternally present and perpetually available, that lies beneath the noise of the world and the noise in our own minds.
Anya Doll
“Ghost of the Sea Gypsy” by Katherine Mitchell
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Among her memories of sweet things—her sister, the song of peas as they whisper to the sticks they climb, the first greens each year, the gibbous moon—was the memory of that night and day and the two times after. He talked of places she could see in her head, of the Pictish princess who was drawn all over her body in coloured flowers instead of clothing in a picture he had seen, a great wonder, tattooed all over in magical beauty. He said she and others initiated warriors in love and then led them into battle wearing only their flowers and a sword. She told him of the waterhorse at Arbroath and how it would wait beneath the bridge under the round hill for those who were unwary, a story told her from her old mam and never to be lost.
“The Green Man” by Georgia Rhoades
“Silent Conversation” by Kiril Nagornyj
My art is my prayer. My return. My becoming.
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What is my way back to this wave on which the writer in me floats?
The passion of an idea that must see the light of day. The excitement of discovering the words that tell the story. The delight in the way words appear on the page when I’m writing, so different from the ones that come as I speak. Where in my body do they hide? How do I live in the emptiness when these pleasures are overtaken by others or when there is no pleasure at all?
“Intermission” by Carol Fox Prescott
