Poetry

“Autumn Longing”

I wrote a poem about fall. It was inspired by the theme of Falling Leaves and by Mary Oliver’s poem “Song for Autumn” and here it is:

“Autumn Longing”

It is time for bed,
It is time for rest.
Everything strives south,
goes down,
lets loose.
We all have gone to seed
Planting our hopes for next year into their prepared beds
No more roses only the ripe hips now
Now the feast from the harvest
Now the felling, the falling, the cutting
of expectation
as we curl in tighter
as we dig in deeper
we hold tightly to ourselves
in the wake of the coming winter
we long to close our eyes
as the sun sets ever lower in the sky

by Pauline Gates, PwA PA and AMB

Poetry

Falling Leaves

The leaves are so beautiful
in all their different
shades, shapes, and states
of growth, release, or decay.
Today I am thinking of the tree
That held that life in its existence,
nurtured it from before it was a small bud
carried nutrients to it so that it could survive
as it developed and grew
now the tree sends a signal
to each one
still connected
through that
nourishing network
to say, it is time, it is time to let go
the tree, feels, the moment
filled with fear or fascination as floating unfolds
It is time
It is time to let go

Neysa Peterson (she/her)
10-10-2022

Poetry · Writing

Winter Bone

Winter Bone

The long exhalation of winter descends on my bones.
Leeching the life from my blood until I’m left as barren as the land. 

The quiet hush of snow covered ground hides the impatient musings of my mind
as I seek a way beyond the bland limitations of this body. 

A fierce squall emerges from the darkness. 

It feeds upon itself as it builds into a formidable wall of ice 
and protects the fragile being lost in the abyss

Snowflakes drift by, oblivious.

by Michelle Murray


Artist Statement

This poem was inspired by an in-class activity for the writing class, From Mundane To Miraculous with Maisha Manson.
We were asked to write about a season that correlates to how we feel in the moment. At the time I was in a great deal of physical pain with the cooling weather. As a person living with chronic pain, winter is a difficult period. There are many parallels between winter and chronic pain and this poem is my way of merging the two in a way that expresses the difficulties and realities of both the season of winter and the seasons of pain. Yet despite the cold and barren starkness of winter, there is a certain beauty and strength hidden beneath the fallen snow. People who live with chronic pain also carry it with a quiet strength that is unseen by those passing in and out of our lives.

Photography · Poetry · Visual Art · Writing

The Swing – Childhood Lost

Empty swing

Childhood… for some a gleeful, loving time. For others, endless trauma and despair.

Like childhood, a swing can be a reflection of pure joy, letting a child soar into the sky, believing they can sweep their hand through the fleecy, luminescent clouds. For some children, however, joy is overshadowed by anguish and pain. There is no lasting happiness, only the dark, dripping wet swing mimicking the suffering that marks their daily existence. The swing hangs still, a cold rain dripping despair onto the iron ground.

The joy has vanished like the child who, instead of transforming this scene into a gleeful moment, has been swallowed by the shadowy forest dominating the background.

Participant Artist – Michael J. O’Connell