Articles about The Divine Feminine
Languid. Black hole. Exploded sensation. Noisy urgency. Unabashed love. Dissolved. A star was born. My newborn daughter suckled at my breast. She feasted as if there was no tomorrow. Her tiny cheeks puffed in and out, concaved and then plumped, with her efforts to drink me in. Droplets of milk oozed from the corner of…
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I wanted to live in my body. I wanted to live undisturbed by judgment. I wanted to live, untethered.
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I burn to heal, discover and create.
I burn to grey ash, to sticky dust, to gritty sediment.
I burn all that I am not.
“When you approach the confessional, know this… I am only hidden by the priest, but I myself act in your soul. Here the misery of the soul meets the God of mercy.” – St. Faustina, Polish Mystic “Confession is an act of love.”– Albert Camus I was a juicy female sapling, a maiden witch,…
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As a young woman, I checked my wild creative nature and sexuality to preserve my cherry. Later, I discovered that the hymen was but a crescent flap of embryonic tissue; a remnant that men and religion imbued with high moral meaning. I had two nicknames in high school: “Miss Advent” and “Sassy.” Translation: irreverent and…
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“Mama, I can’t breathe,” she said. Ancient and black, ankles spilled over battered sneakers, she raised her arms to the mystery.
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I’m Speaking. Who’s the “I”? Over a year ago, I started “Method Writing” classes with poet and teacher, Jules Swales. The classes are sculpted around writing like you talk.
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