And When Raven Shortcuts by Carrie Nassif
“And When Raven Shortcuts” by Carrie Nassif and when raven shortcuts to the living scarp of red boulders air spare and still overhead her nearly silent flight tsip tsip tsip is my heart beat beating staccato sweeps of her wings cleanse mind-sky like sage this labyrinth is a barnacled tortoise bare feet crunch into its pea-gravel shell toe-heel toe-heel repeat lavender-shaded driftwood like a cool like...
Fields of Hveen by Barbara Sabol
“Fields of Hveen” by Barbara Sabol Denmark should not forget the noble woman who in spirit more than blood was my sister, Sophia, that shining star in our Danish sky. ― Tycho Brahe Now that the long days of summer are spent, when only Venus and a blush of moon could buff the abiding brightness, I am, against all protestation, drawn to...
The Journey by Florence Gharibian
“The Journey” by Florence Gharibian It started with a broken table, It started with a missing song, It started in a midnight’s musing, Thoughts that came before the dawn. It started with a shattered flower, resting in the darkened soil. Petals moving oh so slowly, vanishing beyond the hill. ____________________ Share your response to this work, in any form, here Florence Gharibian’s Artist...
Burst Forth and Bloom
Our room is the WAVES. A Room of Her Own’s long vision is to amass a multimedia mother archive of the collective memory and storied history of women artists and writers. Weaving the diverse voices of our radiant Waves Anthology together with newly-submitted creative work, responses to The Q, Global Camps, and more, each WAVES edition is a glittering droplet in this expansive project for the ages. WAVES is not only our...
Thunderstorms Quench My Thirst by Melanie Kirby
“Thunderstorms Quench My Thirst” Seed Vessel by Melanie Kirby This particular piece of my work is about protecting seeds. It is a seed saving vessel that, with sunlight and water, will burst forth with new life. It is a clay womb that is incubating and preserving seed stories that can be shared and passed onto the next generation. As a creative woman, I define my creative identity in the following way:...
Woman Who Glows in the Dark by Elizabeth Gade
“Woman Who Glows in the Dark” by Elizabeth Gade I want the power to face beauty and not look away I want to say yes and believe I deserve it trauma says stay small turn away isolate you don’t belong every day is a decision to face it and not drown in the fear to come out the mud bloom where I stand today a woman who glows in the dark ____________________ Share your...
She Holds the Light Within Her
“The Light Keeper” Берегиня Світла artwork by displaced Ukrainian photographer Ksenia Lisna What does my art mean to me: Coming as I do from a port city and shipbuilding centre in the southern region of Ukraine, the ethos of sea, sky, and steppe are never far away. Mykolayiv is situated on the river Buh, which flows into The Black Sea. Here, the water is deep. During the Cold War, Mykolayiv included a military base,...
It Stays in Our Body by Mehreen Hashmi
“It Stays in Our Body” by Mehreen Hashmi What does my writing/art mean to me? Being a survivor of several assaults including rape, molestation and sexual assaults, I have been living with developmental trauma and my work is a narration of my emotional state of several time periods while attempting to process and heal. It depicts social stigmas towards victims and its aftermath on their lives. My...
The Light Keeper by Ksenia Lisna
“The Light Keeper” by Ksenia Lisna Берегиня Світла Ukraine is not a dream. Ukraine is my home. Україна, це ні сон, ні мрія. Україна, це моя Батьківщина. What does my art mean to me: Coming as I do from a port city and shipbuilding centre in the southern region of Ukraine, the ethos of sea, sky, and steppe are never far away. Mykolayiv is situated on the river Buh, which flows into The Black Sea....
Earth’s Lullaby, or To the Child Now Grown by Kathleen McCoy
“Earth’s Lullaby, or To the Child Now Grown” by Kathleen McCoy Before the wooly mammoth pounded here, before the wings of pterosaurs cleaved this brittle sky and pieces shattered, when glacier-fed streams greened the earth and bobbins of purple and gold bejeweled the grass, I saw you. I dreamed you, you danced behind your daddy’s eyes, and...
. . .
How do we recover treasure from the deepest places, the bathys?
Submit Your Art & Writing to WAVES
. . . . . . . . .
Bring to light our deepest treasures of sisterhood and creative renewal.
August 8-9 | immersion | noon to noon EST
Recent From Waves
-
The Deepest Place Jul 26, 2025
