“Moon Goddess” by Briyana Negrette; “Mother” by Carolyn Gall; “I Am From” by Irma Vazquez; “She” excerpt by Rebekah Blake

“Moon Goddess” by Briyana Negrette

I am an American artist with Puerto Rican, Peruvian Mexican and Native heritage. My family is Catholic but I believe myself to be a spiritualist. I explore the realms of identity, religion and the subconscious mind. – Briyana Negrette



“Mother” by Carolyn Gall

I’m from Eden, Adam and Eve

Do not be deceived

I’m from Mesopotamia

I’m from Academia

The deep forests decay

From the ocean and cay

When the planet was new

And creatures were few.

I came to partake of the splendor

To become part of life as it grew

I’ve been here forever

Some call me mother, some Earth

I’m a part of you, and you and you.


“I Am From” by Irma Vazquez
Pachamama’s pulsing belly.
Her womb is warm and spacious,
like my home’s jacuzzi bathtub.
I splash and kick around
mirroring the movements
of Lovely and Beautiful’s heart shaped leaves
that dance with a soft breeze.
My first and every powerful breath,
has the vitality of a homecoming cheerleading squad,
and reminds me….I am Alive.
And that
I Am From
the mystery
of this vast, misunderstood, endless universe,
I see.
I am a mistress of energy. – Irma Vazquez
“She” (A retelling of The Giving Tree) excerpt by Rebekah Blake

We must first establish that the Giving Tree, like all trees, is a she, and she loved her boy with all of her trunk, branches, and roots….

She felt the sun on her stump. She felt snow land on her stump and then melt. She felt little feet, big feet, bird feet, and beast feet. But none of them were the man. She heard birds singing. Deer eating grass. Moss grew on top of her. A family of termites found a home in her. A squirrel hid its treasures in a hole at the base of her stump. Things were good and the tree started to remember what happiness felt like. Then she heard a song. She called out, “Who is there?”

There was laughter and the feeling of a branch brushing her stump. “Grandmother Tree, we are your granddaughters, we sing to you so that you will not be lonely. We have seen you give everything and now we want you to rest and be happy.”

And the tree was happy. She listened to her granddaughters’ songs and their daughters’ as well.


I am a Black American mother. I believe in the connections I have to the many women that came before me and that gets me through many long days. – Rebekah Blake




Author: A Room of Her Own

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