How Can I Start by Vivian Y. Ohtake-Urizar

Flowing  How can I start with myself?  I can easily focus on someone else.  I could write about my Papa being a writer.  How many books?  How many best sellers?  How do I focus on myself?  Muse.  Creator.  Open to...

5Rhythms Body Waves Poems by Lora Heller

FLOWING  Am I flowing or fleeing?   Flitting like a butterfly, taking only what I need and giving the rest away  So others can grow, thrive, feel nurtured  I seek grounding, connection  But I fly away and freeze  Dissociation is the...

5Rhythms Body Waves Song by Lora Heller

I feel the music, I move to the rhythm  I float away on the gentle melody  I feel the music, I feel the music in me  It has carried me away   To a place beyond, to a place beyond this day  I open up my heart, my mind, my wings are...

A Pair of Pigeons by Roxanna Sherwood

They have found their spot.  A pair of pigeons.  In the cold that slows. We dance. Pigeons on the windowsill.  Playfully pressed against one another.  The chemical salt air in gusts that lift their feathers, they nestle tightly.  The warmth of...

Against the Floor by Maria-Luisa Ruiz

Against the floor I am letting my body go in its tiredness Just here, yawning and stretching my arms, my legs For sure I didn’t know Until against the floor How much was there to go I let my body roll, there on the floor, eyes closed And very slow, I feel my breath...

My Father’s Carpet by Ida Dupont

It inhabited their carefully curated house, for 52 years. And now it’s mine. I seized it from the “to sell” pile from eager downsizers and estate salesmen during my dad’s transition to senior living. It took work and money to get it home. A man with a van-- Loud,...

The End by Ida Dupont

An Ending I will never forget the day it happened-- the sensation of molten fluid seeping out of me, soaking my pants, my inner thighs sticky with blood. I remember thinking-- How can I run with a fat pad in my pants? Or take a bath when I’m bleeding? Should I stick...

Heartbroken by Alix Curnow

I had my heart broken twice last year.  No, three times.  It’s true.  And if you’re reading this  (I hope you are)  Please know: I had my heart broken by you.  By the texts we never sent,  The phone calls we never made.  By...

Stillness by Maamoun Tabbo

Sometimes absence is an opening.And nothingness is enough.A soft withdrawal into silence,Where the body remembers its original functionan antenna, translating what has no formInto shape and form. Flesh and breath In this absence of noise,Truth does not arrive, it was...

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