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...
of being by Mary Silwance
“of being” by Mary Silwance I love the way she kettles overhead scenting and seeing what is there but keens and dives only for what is hers— She will not rise glorious like a phoenix with mythic feathers to preen. No. She will thrust instead into death. Feast on disease. Savor clots of rot. Slurp decay. Make communion from wreckage. For this is what a wake is: meticulous release from malady ...
I have not yet written a single page by daylight.
Harriet Jacobs
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The Q: Are you aware of a recurrent rhythm—a breath and then a push—to your creative process?
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Dissonance Sep 27, 2024
