Come here, fear. I am alive and you are so afraid of dying.
Joy Harjo
. . .
Indeed, the female territory might well be envisioned as one long border, and independence for women, not as a separate country, but as open access to the sea.
Myra Jehlen
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Submit Your Art & Writing to WAVES
“Salacia” by Kathy Harmon-Luber
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what is soluble or separable enters the oceans
from a stream that empties into the sea
from a lake, if lacking outlet
soaking into the earth
seeping through
emerging in rivulets
or evaporating into the sky
falling as rain on water
falling as rain on land
rainwashed dust and smoke,
even sand is moved by the sea
and the edge of one sea blends into the next
You, love, may be in the smoke, the mist
or all the seven seas
I, solidly grounded, weighted in place
look on the Pacific remembering
We are not so far apart perhaps
as you from this world
or I from where I left you last
slipping through my fingers
into the small stream near the Atlantic
“Oceans” by Shirley Plummer, from Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices
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Bits of me are floating back like moons to their
mother planet. No one else has this exact memory
…
I water the rosemary, sweep away cobwebs, let light and sound
stitch my wounds, healing across time and space.
“Coming Back” by Beverly LaFontaine, from Waves: A Confluence of Women’s Voices
“Waves From a Sunset” by Marianne Murdock
In searching for a Room of My Own… I find places to create what I crave. An ocean from the sky … the times when beauty was everywhere.
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I am a landscape of moving colors as brilliant as an Adirondack fall, yet slowly merging, blurring, and blending into starlit twilight.
Stand on Algonquin and paint my truth when I can speak no more.
Charlotte McCormick
WAVES ALIVE |
