My Morning Bird Song
By Áine Greaney — Naming and loving. They’re not the same thing. Over the years, I’ve had a gazillion identifiers. I’ve been Alien Resident Number 123 or
Nov 30
Journaling became my lifeline
By Mahin Kapur — An accident left me in a coma for weeks, and when I finally woke up, the world no longer felt like the one I had left behind. My body was weak
Nov 24
A Little Bit of Heartache
By Linda C. Wisniewski — Despite long years of heartache, my boy and I are good. He left his shampoo on the rim of my bathtub. It means he's coming back,
Nov 21
Pancakes
By Craig Kirchner — I’m 75 today, having a little trouble waking up, getting up, walking. Finally make it to the Keurig and decide to breakfast. The word goes back
Nov 18
The Way I See It
By Denise Michaels — Today, I’m inspired to transplant the spider-wort, a misnamed flowering bush I enjoy for its profuse purple flowers, velvet-like, the
Nov 14
See Me Smile
By Duane Anderson — What makes me smile? Going on an outing with my wife to visit a few friends over dinner, getting a smile from our dog as I rub its belly in
Nov 11
My love for you is deep…
By Pulkita Anand — My love for you is deep, majestic and passionate. Like an ocean, it’s unfathomable. It is unbounded. The waves of my heart want to hold you. My thoughts are drowned in
Nov 7
Our children don't belong to us
By Betty Vega — Despite my family saying, “No mother should have to bury her child,” I think everyday how commonplace that is. Mothers lose their
Nov 3
Learning to Draw During COVID
By Millie Ford — It was a hard time to be a hypochondriac. Daily death tolls geysering all over the country. Refrigerated trucks as temporary morgues.
Oct 30
Me
By John L. Swainston — It is a rivers water that I want to be, not knowing where I am going, not caring where I have been. I am here, now. The rocks
Oct 27
Charcoal and Paper
By Riis Porter — I grab a piece of blank white paper. The images I try to describe are shapeless. Where is my vision? I must shatter my mind to find the true
Oct 24
Autumn in Michigan
Linda Leedy Schneider — My woods are a kaleidoscope of colors. Maple, birch and dogwood are changing their green work clothes, revealing their authentic
Oct 20
By the Hundreds
By Robert Martin — “It seems to me,” the man began—leaning into the air as if the sky itself had leaned in to listen. And then the torrent. Words by the hundreds
Oct 16
TODAY I AM
By Howard Osborne — As of yesterday, I wasn’t anybody. No identity,yet not even an entity. Still to emerge from dark obscurity that most think it's a strange
Oct 13
The Rescuer
By Penny Nolte — Bathed in my own sweat I am in bed, no in the car. No, in the hospital, lungs rigid, creaking like paper bags. A two-headed nurse is here
Oct 9
Joy Is a Radical Act
By Plamen Vasilev — In a world often riddled with chaos, injustice, and suffering, joy stands as a radical act of defiance against the prevailing narratives
Oct 6
Ask Me What The War Was Like
By Daniel J. Davis — Ask me if I was ever afraid. I'll say, "only sometimes." Ask me if I was in danger. I'll tell you I was as safe as anyone can be over there, and that I
Sep 30
Holding One Candle
By Glenn Marchand — I heard about a rock bearing witness. I listened to a rainbow as a sign. A man from invisibility received tithes from a forefather. Therewith
Sep 27