The Grandmother had been staring steadily over my right shoulder at my Future for several weeks. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Living
In Invisible Heroes by Belleruth Naparsteck, she describes the physiological mechanism of trauma; that during trauma the part of the brain that processes language is overridden, and the part of the brain that uses and remembers images is heightened Continue reading
Encounter at the Dog Park
She walks with a hesitant gait, still feeble, a peach fuzz hair as soft as cat fur capping her skull. This is a precise moment, Continue reading
Things They Don’t Tell You About Having Cancer
There are a million, million things they don’t tell you about having cancer, about being sick and almost dying and being resurrected, and wondering if it were worth it since you feel like a dirty rug for years afterward. A million things.
They don’t tell you that it smells of sex at the root zone in your garden. Continue reading
Homecoming by Erica Sternin
Today I arise from 646 days
Of ash and immolation, a survivor.
And today I’ve donned a shimmering, verdant robe,
Which is embroidered with strawberries,
And peonies, and joy.
My heartbeats roar like a humming bird,
Drum like a flicker,
The Sweet Spot
The Grandmother has taught me to smell, to watch, to deeply listen for healing around every curve in my path. I hear it in the bird calls pinging through the leafy canopy, and in the sub-aural voices of ancient trees. It comes as a word, or it may appear in dream fragments, or on a telephone pole or in a poem on Facebook. Healing may be the particular quality of light greenly gleaming through the leaves, or seeing my garden upside down in a drop of dew. It is the pleasure of the rooted ones, dancing when breezes shift their skirts and the birds tickle their branches. I seek that moment, like a moth seeking the light of the moon, that moment of Healing.