Channie Greenberg
“Access Denied”
Inspiration piece

Just Trippin
By Kamika Cooper
Response

i began a trip
without a destination
or clear direction

criss-crossing highways
navigating one way streets
just looking for you

i looked in churches
and sat at board room tables
often getting lost

craving connection
i went anywhere you said
hoping to be seen

i have traveled far
for a seat at your table
but you don’t want me

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Anya Mayer
“Summer Daze”
Ink on paper
Repsonse

This is for
By Kamika Cooper
Inspiration piece

this is for
attentive eyes and rich brown skin
reminding me of afrika and heart home
i must have known you before cause your
soft hands feel so familiar, so peculiar is
this feeling, sista-girl and i don’t even know you

but still, this is for
trying to get past my new infatuation suddenly
humbled by the sound of your mellow voice
appreciative when that sexy smile crosses your face
after you intellectually tease me – how do you do that?
cause you don’t even know me, not even sure if you feel me
and you may be thinking

this is for
the business and hair wholeness
for the sake of pampering your soul,
but it’s so much more, sista-girl
it’s like the ancestors brought you to my door
and whispered in my ear that these thoughts
wouldn’t be fleeting anytime soon, i ask my moon
if i am to trust her instincts, as i have misunderstood
her in the past, i want what she is saying to be true

that this is for you
and the calm you bring over me
for your hair in and out of my fingers and
the beautiful music that lingers throughout my ears
for the potential of our locs intertwined on sands,
in the winds, drenched in water, on pillows and hands
the potential of passionate meetings of the minds
and the promise of ever-changing desires

this is for the unknown inside of us
and the possibility of air expansion and spontaneous combustion

this is for attentive eyes which
i fantasize about being on me, igniting a fire which cannot be extinguished

this is for you, sista-girl, and i don’t even know you

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Anya Mayer
“Rainbow Moon Fish”
watercolor with India ink on handmade Tibetan paper
Inspiration piece

Out of Our Element
By Kamika Cooper
Response

told us to stay home
but we did not
taking rockets to space
every chance we’ve got

planting flags on the moon
and leaving trash behind
all that space junk’s floating
out beyond our skies

out of our element
and we’re running out of time
something in this water’s
got us out of our minds

digging into the oceans
still polluting our seas
we’ve got an oil addiction
and it never recedes

told us to stay home
but we said no
got those satellites swimming
to make that internet go

sharks are biting to warn us
that earth is getting too hot
we’re spinning out of our element
whether we believe it or not

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Susan Burton
“Below”
Digital art
Response

Countdown
By Kamika Cooper
Inspiration piece

7
rest easy knowing
there is peace in your silence
so run your mouth less

6
we see you in need
down on the train station floor
and just walk away

5
i am wondering
is this intended for us
or solely for you

4
don’t ask the questions
you don’t want the answers to
it may not go well

3
decades of grieving
keep you trapped in yesterday
can’t function today

2
i have been too nice
a lying shell of myself
and now i hate you

1
work done hard and well
rewards you with more hard work
i prefer hard cash

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Susan Burton
“Ice Cream”
Digital art, photography
Inspiration piece

Quarantine
By Kamika Cooper
Response

i remain inside
pretending i am outside
for a while that works

scroll tap click checkout
any little thing i want
here in an hour

staring at these screens
the chairs and i are now one
to stand and walk hurts

this is my safe space
filled with tasty unsafe things
to fill all my holes

screens and sweetened things
once a cure for my sadness
weighing me down now

awaiting rescue
is pointless so i must stand
correct my posture

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Amy Souza
photography
Inspiration piece

Overcast
By Kamika Cooper
Response

“What are you doing here?”

Gretchen sat cross-legged, making swirls in the sand with her fingers. She had been sitting peacefully at the ocean’s edge for the past hour, the currents and birds providing a soundtrack for her brooding.

Jack looked down at her, trying to quell his excitement. “I came to be with you, maybe take you to lunch.”

“This is where I need to be right now.”

“I get it.” He sat next to her, wanting to put his arms around her. Instead, they sat in silence, the ocean mist kissing their faces. For him, the news was cause for celebration; This is what he wanted from the moment he laid eyes on her.

Gretchen looked up with tears in her eyes. “I cannot believe I allowed this to happen. I can barely take care of myself! What am I going to do with a baby?”

Jack wanted to respond and reassure her, but he remained silent. She had been distraught since taking the home pregnancy test. She came out of the bathroom, handed him the positive test stick and walked out the front door.

“I am no one’s ‘Mommy’. The very thought of it is absurd. I did everything right. I didn’t miss any days of birth control, we used extra protection… I just don’t understand. I can’t explain it, but I know that I am not meant to have kids.”

As far as Jack was concerned, Gretchen had simply under estimated herself and he was going to help her to see things differently. After poking holes in condoms for the past five months, his dream was coming true. He was going to be a father, have a family. He was thrilled and knew that Gretchen would come around.

“I know this is not what you wanted and the timing is bad, especially with your new job. But I love you and I am going to take care of you and our baby. We can get married, be a family.”

“Married?!” She laughed through her tears. “Listen, I love you, Jack. I enjoy what we have had over the past year. But as I told you when we met, I am not the marrying type and never will be. It is not my intention to hurt you, but I am no one’s wife or mother.

“So what, are you planning to abort our baby?”

She went back to making swirls in the sand. “I don’t know.”

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Jonathan Ottke
“We”
Pen, ink, paper
Response

Ancestral Mantra
By Kamika Cooper
Inspiration piece

we hope you live
we hope you thrive
we hope you find the strength
to fight and speak your mind
we hope you soar
no matter clear or cloudy skies
and that the dreams you dream
awaken you with pride

may you be patient
may you be kind
may you give more than
what you take from the divine
everything given
will be returned to you in time
but hold on tight
it’s going to be a bumpy ride

we wish you laughter
we wish you grace
we wish you safety as you
travel on your way
don’t you ever
regret the path you take
and if you fall just
get back up and try again

may you always feel our love despite your pain

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Jonathan Ottke
“Cherry Petals on Water”
Photography
Inspiration piece

Abandoned
By Kamika Cooper
Response

you heard what they said about me
and you believed every word
shook me right off your tree
like the fruit I grew was just for the birds

it rained hard for days and days
after that random evening storm
we each went our separate ways
so i had no choice but to fall and float on

i don’t know what they said about me
but i was left alone on the forest floor
a creek formed and set me free
i will never be what i was before

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Chandra Achberger
Inspiration piece

“Will You Come?”
By Kamika Cooper
Response

The journey to Restoration Valley had taken two and a half days. The weather had been perfect: clear skies, pollen-free breathing, and the temperatures reaching a high of 65 degrees during the day. Amina and Fir had packed just enough food and water to sustain them along the way. But sustenance and weather were never the paramount concern. Every time they thought they found a new, safe place to live, they soon found themselves among the hunted, requiring them to go on the run once more. They wanted the safety, and freedom Restoration Valley was rumored to provide. Though they had no idea what that meant – there were only rumors – anything had to be better than their current reality.

Amina, Fir, and some 40,000 other people who looked like them were in grave danger. They had been for some time but were blinded to the truth when the hunting began. They were among those who, for a few generations, were lulled into a false sense of safety by their wealth, privilege, and education. Believing themselves to be equals with the very people they were running from now, they allowed themselves to become too comfortable, letting their guard down too soon.

They cleared the cover that the trees had provided for the last day of their journey and exited the woods to find the lush, steep green hill said to be the valley’s entryway. It was so tall and wide; It looked as if they would need to reach the sky before descending. A reassuring voice entered their minds: You only need to make it to the top. Once there, you will be safe.

They heard yells behind them; Hunters were near. Tired – so very tired – and nearly out of steam, they began to run up the hill. They were halfway up when the first shot rang out. Fir looked as if he might give up. Amina pulled at his elbow, nudging him upward, knowing that she could not descend into Restoration Valley without him. Fire spread across the back of Amina’s thigh. Though she had never felt a gunshot before, she knew this is what had occurred. Fir’s arm abruptly wrested from her loving hand, and all hope was lost. They were in pain, bleeding, vision blurred, and gasping for air when they reached the valley’s top.

All the gunfire stopped.

Light surrounded them, lifted them, and carried them down into the valley. Their wounds began to heal, and as they regained their vision, they saw the most beautiful, smooth structure before them. It looked to be constructed from hematite. The benevolent, soothing voice entered their minds again.

We have healed your injuries, but we understand that some scars do not heal as swiftly. You are free to return the peak if you wish, but know that you are welcome on our ship and our planet. If you are willing, we have come to take you to your new home. There may be many new challenges, but we can promise that they will not be the ones you are facing now, and you will never be among the hunted again. Will you come?

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Kamika Cooper
“my healer”
digital photography/illustration
response

Art and Science in Medicine
By Urmilla Khanna
Inspiration piece

“Jonathan has an earache?” I said in a half-angry voice as I took an emergency phone call from Mrs. Martin and fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp. It was three a.m.

“Yes doctor, I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, but he has been crying non-stop all night. I have given him Tylenol every three hours instead of every four as you usually recommend, just to help us get through the night, but it has not helped at all.”

I heard Jonathan’s wailing in the background and my anger turned into empathy. I listened to mom’s story and assessed the situation. Jonathan had been well and had been playing outdoors for long hours that day. It had been a hot and humid week in Washington D.C. He did not have fever, cough, cold or sore throat. The pain came on rather abruptly, sometime after his shower in the evening.

“Well, you have two options. You could run him over to an emergency clinic or would you rather wait to see me in the office. I could see him the first thing in the morning,” I said.

“If I take him to the emergency room, I will probably not be seen for three or four hours, anyway. I’ll call your office and come see you the first thing in the morning,” mom said.

I was in my office at nine the following morning, browsing through the day’s schedule. Mrs. Martin walked in soon thereafter. She was carrying four-year-old Jonathan propped up on her shoulder, her face anxious, her hair disheveled.

“Let me get you settled in a room,” the nurse walked the patient into room #3. She often referred to this room as the room with a view because it had a large picture window. Jonathan’s piercing cry penetrated through the walls and closed door of the exam room. I knew I had to attend to him right away. I came to the doorway of room #3 and spoke directly to Jonathan. “I am going to come and see you in just a minute and mom and I are going to see if we cannot make your pain any better.” Hearing my voice his howling changed to quieter sobs. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” I reassured him.

I collected his chart, my stethoscope and otoscope and walked in to see Jonathan. He was sitting on the table clutching on to his teddy bear and blanket. His eyes were red and swollen, teeth chattering, face smudged with tears and mucus. I let a few minutes go by letting mom vent about her fretful night. As I stood listening, I was wiping tears off Jonathan’s cheeks. He blew his nose into the tissue I held up for him. Next, I helped him lie down, covering him with his blanket and tucking his stuffed toy beside him. I ran my hands over his brow and hair, gently massaging his scalp, giving him more time to settle down. Now I looked at his throat, his nose, his right ear and finally went to the offending ear. There was no surprise for what I saw. He had a flaming red and swollen ear canal, making it impossible for me to view the tympanic membrane. He had external otitis, commonly known as swimmers ear, a very painful condition. The warm humid summers of Washington DC area are notorious triggers for this kind of yeast infection in children’s ears.

I explained it all to mom and discussed my treatment plan. I would pack the ear canal with a wick soaked in a medicinal ointment. The child continued to listen intently.

“I’ll ask the nurse to get the tray ready and I’ll be back shortly,” I was now speaking directly to the four-year-old. Before I left the room, I took another moment to explain the procedure to Jonathan in a language that he would understand. As I spoke, I was stroking his limp forearm and clamp, sweaty belly. His anxious eyes were no longer a stream of tears.

As I was stepping out, he sat up on the exam-table, smiling. “Can we go home now?” he said to his mother. “My ear is all better.”

That ear was a ball of fire and was surely extremely painful. I had felt the stinging pain myself as I was examining him.

Jonathan had taught me a lesson that I have never forgotten—the healing power of touch—a lost art in present day medicine.

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.