Identity by Gerda Govine Ituarte
“Identity” by Gerda Govine Ituarte What do you call a woman who is married? wife What do you call a woman whose husband died?...
A New Theology by Sheila Bender
“A New Theology” by Sheila Bender For Seth Bender, 1975-2000 Who has no likeness of a body and has no body is my son, now five months dead but in my dreams, my dreams he brings the peace in gardens. And I see him in his smile and he is hardy in the rolled up sleeves of his new shirt, well-fed when he has no likeness of a body and has no body. I see him next to me in conversation at a party and I believe that...
On the Eve of a Daughter’s Fortieth Birthday by Laurie Klein
“On the Eve of a Daughter’s Fortieth Birthday” by Laurie Klein Little fist of a plum on the chipped yellow plate, your heft—mottled violet, tinge of blue—defines awkward: Smooth skin girdles the bloom of pulp. Youth is a membrane, poised to tear, spill seed. Little plum, sealed tight, were you a door hinged to my fieldstone wall, where would I open? ____________________ Share your response to this...
Orbit without Gravity by Page Lambert
“Orbit without Gravity” by Page Lambert Once, daughter, in keeping with the turning of the moon—nine times we felt it turn during those months when we shared blood and breath, when the iron-rich beef I ate became the flesh that filled the hollows of your soft bones, before the nurse cut the cord and we began that long journey away from each other, once, daughter you needed me. Now, twenty-one years later, the...
There’s a Tornado in My Mind by Ann L. Carter
“There’s a Tornado in My Mind” by Ann L. Carter It comes and goes but lately it’s been lingering. Sometimes it wrecks the house, leaving us to stand amidst the piles, and how do I find the energy to put everything back together? Sometimes it takes my daughters, with me a shell of memories, desperate to find their photographs. Sometimes I alone am swept away, doubting that those remaining can ever find...
Unwinding by Anita Barnard
“Unwinding” by Anita Barnard Broad and capable, still brown from the long gone summer, they carry you through the joyous whys and whats of your days. Had destiny given us a different setting, my intrepid daughter, you would not be running now through our overgrown garden. The binding woman would come. I would wrap my arms around your fragile limbs, stiffen against your pain as feet were folded, bound, broken....
Premonition by Faith Holsaert
“Premonition” by Faith Holsaert When I return, my car motor labors up the rise. Our shingled house hunkers into the green woods, the blue and white sky snapping like bed sheets on a line. I am putting the car in gear and setting the brake, gathering purse, books, and a bag of groceries from the IGA. The brown dog leaps barking off the porch, and the shepherd mix hurries toward me, ready to put his body...
Spear Maiden to Persephone by Geri Lipschultz
“Spear Maiden to Persephone” by Geri Lipschultz All superheroes are violent, so do not marry one, but all who are not superheroes are also violent. A discovery made by one of the female explorers. Empty pages, my life has been that for a while. I’ve stepped into someone else’s book. I’ve skated on their pages. I’ve relinquished my religion and my height. I’ve given up my hair for a good cause. They must...
The Bones of His Face by Jan Lewbin
“The Bones of His Face” by Jan Lewbin I invited My son Glorious and brilliant Yet so adrift separate distant From me In that painful precarious place Between boy and man To approach And come close He laid his head in my lap Rested his shoulders on my thighs And nestled his lean body Along the length of mine So that I could soothe The taut skin between his brows Circle my finger tips At his temples And stroke...
Outside Modern Myths: Waiting in the Car While the Teens Battle on Game Night by Rebecca Olander
“Outside Modern Myths: Waiting in the Car While the Teens Battle on Game Night” by Rebecca Olander My son and his geek friends are beautiful, with their Magic cards and D10 dice, their plastic-sheathed comic books and revelry in their own stink in the backwoods of gaming stores, huddled around tables like Tolkien’s fellowship round a fire. Sometimes, they role-play in forests, becoming weekend healers, totem...
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August 8-9 | immersion | noon to noon EST
WAVES ALIVE is an immersive experience, held tenderly by the ebb and flow of ritual, sisterhood, creative expansion, then surfacing to share what we have uncovered about ourselves and our art. Creative sisters are invited to join us at any point and remain for any length of time during our full-circle offering.
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The Deepest Place Jul 26, 2025
