The River Remembered
Poem by Amy Lees, Artwork by Jennifer Hughes
Years ago, the river remembered,
A girl’s tan foot had pierced his placid surface.
He hadn’t believed it could be so,
Not in this spot where he so expertly whiled away
The softness of the rotten trees and even the rocks.
In the winter, he had been impenetrable
Was he not still?
At first, she had stepped lightly
On the moss-covered stones.
But once, she slipped, and crying out
Withdrew her bleeding foot, a shard of glass
Still in it.
The river was shamed, for he
Had presented a shining temptation for her,
A mask over all his collected debris,
And she had stepped in willingly
To be cut by it.
Harmonics
Poem by George Miller, Artwork by Jeannie Egan
High desert where cacti flower,
succulents cling to crumbling cliffs.
Harmonics engulf the land in fifths and thirds,
winds spiral across rock face, return a voice,
words whispered in a forgotten tongue.
A rock garden, each stone lain obliquely to an unseen axis,
no stance affords a view of the maker’s vision.
Gemstones spewed from molten rock, crystalized
from acrid steam seeping into limestone.
Green-ringed malachite with no other purpose
than to be its own crystalline self.
Scarlet cinnabar, mercurial, toxic, prismatic,
white hot waters ascend through fractured rock,
precipitate, crystalize.
Hessonite basks in its own rhombic splendor,
splays its voice across twelve diamond faces.
*****
An old seer scattered stones across Sonoran scrub,
unpolished crystals tumbled from her leather pouch,
a mosaic, light reflected, light refracted.
She knew the truths she wished to share,
those she chose to shield
behind a veiled mosaic.
The last to speak her native tongue, she took
the wisdom of ancient mothers with her
when she ascended the sky islands
to lay her nation to rest.
Other
Poem by Hiram Larew, Artwork by Bonnie McCloud
I wouldn’t want it any other way
Would you
In fact I wouldn’t know what’s what
Or how to do anything
Without putting one on and wearing it
Would you
And of course I’ve use it from the start
So really
It’s fun now --
Slipping it on is like living in a playground
Pretending and guessing
All the time
Isn’t it
(In fact, it’s helped me
To love whatever's mysterious
And other)
Taking it off
Isn’t so important or likely is it
When it has so many colors
And reasons to stay on
Especially when you know that
Everything that matters is always disguised
Anyway
So why not masquerade all the time --
In fact it seems to me that the moon is wiser
When it’s face is half hidden
And even more than that
I know by heart that make-believe is true
After all
Don’t you
Fragmented Images
Poem by Bert Ifill, Artwork by Katerina Evans
As I stared intently into it,
The mirror suddenly cracked,
Splitting into a spiderweb of misshapen wedges
Refracting me into images of surprise, bemusement, and confusion.
Slowly, then quickly, the pieces fell from the frame,
Dashing themselves into smaller shards as they hit the floor
And spreading into a fractal kaleidoscope.
I saw myself shattered into myriad images, as small as fingernails,
As large as a palm print. Each fragment reflected a different persona.
In some, I was smiling, my features unlined.
In too many others, my face was pulled taut into anxious grimaces.
I marveled that in the glittering mosaic spread before me
I was so many different people
But not completely myself.
Hummingbird’s Embrace/El abrazo del colibrí
Poem by Sho’s, Artwork by Ana Dorantes
I.
I sing a vibration of pure joy.
I conjure love and open the heart,
laugh musically and enjoy Creator’s many gifts.
I move comfortably within a beautiful environment,
darting here, there, and everywhere.
I am a flash of the spirit,
and quickly die if caged or caught.
II.
How or why has your heart center closed?
Have you done something callous to others?
If you hear my forlorn song,
it may presage sorrow
and the inability to see
the primordial beauty that surrounds us.
Journey into your personal pain and know
your sorrow is your joy in another reflection.
III
Love life and its joys.
Your presence will bring joy to others
and join people together.
Hear celestial music and be in harmony with it,
a renewal of the magic of living.
_________________________________
I.
Canto con la vibración de la alegría pura.
Invoco el amor y abro el corazón,
río con música en el alma
y celebro los muchos regalos del Creador.
Me muevo con gracia
en un mundo lleno de belleza,
voy de aquí para allá,
ligera, libre, por todas partes.
Soy un destello del espíritu,
y mi luz se apaga pronto
si me encierran o me atrapan.
II.
¿Cómo o por qué
se ha cerrado el centro de tu corazón?
¿Has hecho algo insensible a otros?
Si escuchas mi canto triste,
puede presagiar dolor
y la incapacidad de ver
la belleza primordial que nos rodea.
Viaja hacia tu dolor más íntimo
y descubre que tu tristeza
es la otra cara de tu alegría.
III.
Ama la vida y sus alegrías.
Tu presencia traerá alegría a otros
y unirá a las personas.
Escucha la música celestial
y vive en armonía con ella.
Florece con la magia de vivir.
My Mask
Poem by Donna Anderson, Artwork by Anita Ewing
My mask preserved me from my past
Or so I thought - until at last
By will and words, and God's good grace,
The mask was lifted from my face.
I saw and felt what had been hidden
I seized my chance and joined the living.
Fine
Poem by Laura Lidji, Artwork by Anita Ewing
“I’m fine,”
I say
Hiding the chaos
That lives under my face
”I’m fine,”
I say
First job finished
before the sun rises
“I’m fine,”
I say
Rush kids to school
And then job number two
“I’m fine,”
I say
Burned my fingers
Making dinner
”I’m fine,”
I say
My bank account
is not
Work three jobs
It doesn’t matter
I don’t know
How I’ll buy groceries
”What’s wrong, Mama?”
I can’t answer that question
“Nothing,” I say
”Just a little burn.”
In bed
Chaos streams down my face
Loosening the binding
”Am I finally falling apart?”
I rise
Move toward the sun
Letting light
Spill over my face
I’m fine
Us
Poem by Nancy Murray, Artwork by Robin Whitehurst
with each step out
the wind presses on our seams
clouds drift past us
as if we weren't there
or stop and fill —
with potential or violence
we match what meets us
dimming when the skies go dark
shading our eyes from glare
adding layers against the bite of cold
the more we add
the less of us remains
so we radiate our brightest light
and hope the world will shift
to meet us there.
The Masks We Wear
Poetry by Rita Lynn, Artwork by Bridget Bartlebaugh
The masks may differ, the surfaces divide, but we’re all the same in the under-tide.
This ocean we’re in, this ocean we are; not fragments apart but connected afar.
The diversity dances on top of the foam, but the deep is our truth, and the deep is our home.
So let the waves shimmer, let the surface play, but remember the depth that does not sway.
For beneath every mask, every role we portray, we are the ocean disguised as a wave.
The Stations of the Smile
Poem by Bert Ifill, Artwork by Nancy Murray
The threat is near but can be outfaced.
Behind us chaos burgeons,
Fattened by contending squalls.
We have a defense that brings order:
We close our eyes and bare our teeth.
We can call it smile, grin, smirk.
We can name it sunshine, umbrella, shield.
A way of putting on or putting off.
A way to invite or shut out.
A way to conceal or reveal.
A signal, a warning, acceptance, denial.
A note of grace or innocence or seduction.
Above all, a way to keep entropy at bay:
We show that we know where we’re going,
Or that we are hopelessly,
hopefully lost.
Belonging
Poem by Jennifer Barber, Artwork by Elizabeth Kendall
Come, all are welcome here
Bring your brokenness and beauty
heavy burdens of contempt,
righteousness, and unworthiness
floating buoys of hope,
gratitude, and wonder
We will weave fractured filaments of
isolation and overwhelm into a bowl
slip slivers of fear and love in its cracks
bind scattered fragments of deferring
beliefs into a unified base of support
Systems will work to tear us apart
smoking mirrors of divisive rhetoric
fuel fires made to distract us from truth
We are not so different you and I
cast in political and spiritual opposition
we will always have more in common
than they want us to believe
Together we will find freedom
differences solidifying the bonds
of community, individuality, integration
Liberation will not be achieved
in insular sects of sameness of thought
it will be created through sweet acceptance
of all that makes us unique
and all that holds us together.
Betrayal
Poem by Nancy Murray, Artwork by Lora Collins
I saw you watching from the tilted glass
with eyes rimmed red
and red-rimmed lips
groomed for silence
and being young
and more clever than clear
I marked the only exit I could see
before your gaze bent my reflection
and my reflection turned on me.
August Moon
Poem and artwork by George Miller
she knows,
gathers morsels,
pilfers crumbs I leave
along the trail, sorts
through my trash,
peruses my journals (is nothing
shielded from her pervasive stare?)
knows I can’t resuscitate
the child within, the youth I was
before the war?
knows I reside within
the refracted apparition
shimmering in her light
(whether or not) I am
who I believe myself to be
(or may have been?) I’m lost
within the hologram I’ve wound
around my wounds
dare I unwind the tales
I’ve told myself? (for fear
there’s little left inside)
as she knew the child
(who is no more?)
she knows
Goodbye
Poem by Katerina Evans, Artwork by Katrina Evans
I looked for you, thought I knew
The man you said you’d be
One day when we’d be old and gray
Reflecting on our history
I believed the fairytale
So much it blinded me
To all the ways you showed me truths
The ones I would not see
I looked into your eyes just now
Hoping that I’d see you
I saw reflections everywhere
But know now that’s not you
You are just an empty shell
Projections on a screen
I wish you were the mask again
the mask was so much better
I see them now
The masks of you,
The made up stories of everything’s fine
They’ve come to an end and I
I will not love a mask of you
I will not be a mask of me
We are unmasked and now I see
It’s time to say goodbye
Mardi Gras
Poem by Nancy Murray, Artwork by Nancy Murray
I take my corner seat Fat Tuesday night
my back against the wall to let me see
to resonate with life’s cacophony
I listen to the music for a salve
as I repair the damage to my heart
each song the same unless I listen close
unless I see the tapping of the feet
I am happy with musicians as they play
they notice me, confirming I exist
I feel the rhythm’s tender, sweet embrace
let the violin replace the kiss
the laughter and the drinking and the smoke
the low-cut ladies, higher than a kite
cackling at a less-than-funny joke
pretending this could possibly suffice
the gentlemen begin their song and dance
the menace of their undirected youth
no rites of passage in a modern age
they beat their chests to hide their awkward truth
here I, so publicly alone, so proud
fearless in its face will wear this badge
with honor, not a hint of sad disgrace
will watch with warmth and love this sweet parade
of tiny souls just trying to be seen – by hiding
to protect their fragile selves – with poison
to continue this charade – by smiling
to pretend they’re not afraid
each will nod and let the other lie
they all agree, and I agree as well
that falseness can become a kind of truth
if constantly repeated to oneself.