Lauren Carney
“Garden of One”
ink, paint, pen, and pencil mixed media
Response

One Woman
By Kamika Cooper
Inspiration piece

I am one woman
the one who won your love and captured your once broken heart
I sit in gratitude of those who came and went before me, those who,
not realizing the treasure they had, stepped aside when love was no longer
enough and as these women moved, you grew, you healed, and were renewed

I am the woman
the one to whom you have chosen to bare your soul
the one you stand naked before, so beautiful and strong
you don’t realize the goddess you have become, but I see her, I see you
and you are mine, I am yours, we are ours, enveloped in sweet oneness

I am one woman
unlike any other flower you picked from those other paths you walked
I am an entire garden here for your exploration and cultivation
my love for you is growing each day from the foundation you have laid
so get ready, because I intend to remain THE one, YOUR one, WE won!

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Lauren Carney
“Dynamic”
ink, paint, pen, and pencil mixed media
Inspiration piece

A Cure for the Best
By Kamika Cooper
Response

Mark Carter died. People in town attended his funeral and brought baked goods to his widow, Janet, and twelve year-old son, Mason. They sat with Janet as she dabbed fat tears from her cheeks.

Less than a week later, one early evening just before sunset, Mark reappeared at home as if nothing happened. Janet thought she was hallucinating and questioned her sanity. But Mason greeted his father as usual, without hesitation. Mark’s hazel-green eyes, dark wavy hair, and deep-dimpled warm smile was missing only one thing – the small mole which sat high on his cheek, just below his left eye. When Janet spoke of his recent death and funeral, Mark responded with dismissive laughter. He had just seen her and Mason that morning before work and was returning home from his annual physical, where he received a clean bill of health. He suggested that she’d had a little too much wine, which was probably true, and that she should turn in early.

In the subsequent days’ encounters, the people who attended the funeral had no reaction to Mark’s sudden reappearance. They interacted with Janet and her family as if the previous week of mourning ceased to exist. Janet visited the funeral home seeking answers from the director. She accepted a cup of hot chamomile mint tea to calm her frayed nerves while waiting. Within a few moments, she lost consciousness. When she woke, she found herself suspended within a clear orb, unable to move or speak. Her family’s doctor stood before her and, in a soothing voice, began to explain.

After years of research and experimentation, he perfected a gamma ray suspension delivery method. The method triggered four specific areas of the human body to cure all diseases, to sustain and restore recently lost life. At first, the doctor simply used a smaller gamma ray to remove the mole beneath Mark’s eye to prevent skin cancer, but it wasn’t enough. Mark’s recent lab work revealed a rare, aggressive cancer coursing throughout his blood. Though he showed no symptoms, he would have died in a few weeks. There was no other choice but to heavily sedate him, and pretend he had suffered a heart attack, in the event the method did not work.

Now, Mark was restored to perfect health, with only one known side effect – permanent memory loss of the two weeks preceding the method – a small consequence for the many lives the doctor would choose to save. Everyone in the small town, including Mason, had been easily captured, quickly cured and released. Everyone, except Janet. The doctor injected a syringe of fluid into the orb and as Janet drifted toward darkness, he reassured her that she would be home in no time and wouldn’t remember a thing. All he had done and would do, was for the best. Only the best would be cured.

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I woke up with you on my mind this morning, Sister Morning 
and as the sun kissed my cheeks with its radiant warmth 
it reminded me of your unyielding love and your radiant spirit
 yes, you are the core of radiance setting me aflame with your inspiration encouraging me to burnandburnandburnon to keeponkeeponkeepinon and

I thank you for your air and your earth

I woke up today with you in mind, Sister of Sisters Mourning
 and I realized I have never known a love like this, a connection like this, support like this 
so grateful for the water you pour when I am overheated with frustration 
when I am chained down with too much information, you are always that blue healing beacon that woman-lovin woman-centered woman grounding me and

I’ve just got to say, just want to profess

I awakened with you in mind, Sister Morning Soul, Ms. Morning Heart of Gold shining your light and beating your drums and singing your songs, Sister, go on! just like you do each morning, Sister Radiance, Queen of Earth Cadence
 waking each and everyone around you just like the morning sun
I must admit that, damn, your morning brilliance has me a little spun, Sister Morning

Good

Morning

Sister

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Amanda C. Brainerd
Response

Broken Things
By Kamika Cooper
Inspiration piece

Broken things keep haunting me
Telling me they won’t be thrown out with the trash on Tuesday morning
Saying they won’t be tossed aside to assuage my deepest longing
Broken pieces among my belongings won’t bring me peace
So my hands keep getting cut on the edges while these

Broken wings keep grounding me
Forcing me to shave my hair and tear away at these fraying seams
Refusing a return flight so I can wake up from these broken dreams
I used to fly so high pretending to never break the rules
Always trying to be the strongest glue as these

Broken things keep haunting me
Telling me they won’t be tossed out of open windows to shatter on city concrete
Saying I can’t drop-kick them to the other side of the street
Shouting they won’t be thrown out in Tuesday morning’s trash can
Getting swept up on that emotional dustpan
My hands keep getting cut on the edges

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Sandy Coleman

Response piece

Beyond the Horizon

Mixed media on canvas

Ray Sharp

Inspiration piece

BIRDS

There must be birds
beyond the horizon. We feel
their wings beating in the wind,
hear their murmured conversations
roll ashore in waves, and it grieves us
who remain rooted to the still earth.

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.

Kathryn Helms Empty/Full: A Diptych
Response

Lisa Kilhefner

Inspiration piece

the skeptics

I’m wilted as if my father was the one to
leave us here; as if this virgin grief
could be stretched out ninety-eight miles from the farm
to my dirty big city apartment; as if the face
of his daughter’s affliction could persist in me four weeks
after whispered adieus. Did they believe
my red bruised façade in line to view the body
was more than a brief interruption from a life
they’ll only see on field trips
and glossy postcard scenes?
Did they believe Amazing Grace
rubbing the roof of my mouth as it emptied out?

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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.

dana gray

“one orange”

response

michelle wallace

“survival mode”

inspiration

Morning on Hoel Pond
Elizabeth Cordes
Inspiration Piece

No sound but the gentle ripples
against my canoe.
The sky is gray
and mist hanging in the trees
seeps down to blanket the lake
in layers of mystery.

I lay my paddle at my feet
and pull the hood close around my face.
The predawn chill permeates all.
I shiver in the stillness.

Two loons call,
greeting each other,
or perhaps in warning of my presence.

A stranger in this untouched land,
I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
Nothing but cold, crisp, clean air,
a hint of pine.
Quiet. Calm. Peaceful.

I glide back to the shore,
my paddle slicing the surface,
stirring the mist into spiraling ghosts.
The day breaks softly,
illuminating the sky
from behind the clouds,
a single layer of muted silver.

The forest awakening now,
I feel it reaching out to embrace me.
The loons call again.
I am home.

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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.