Author: Christina M. Ward
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Swallow Me Whole
a poem of Contemplation Beneath this earthso many souls. In this groundright where I stand,my bare-heeled ache on the grit;do they linger here? Do their solemn hazes pass me by as my breath drifts meone day to the next?Am I aware ofthat chill, that pressure in the airshifting, disturbing,a moaning whisper to myhuman ears?Does it shift me? I turned on…
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Wrangling the Snakes
NO Mr. Snake–you cannot eat my silkie babies! TRIGGER WARNING — snake pictures below. So this morning was exciting! I love wrangling the snakes away from our chicken pens. (Although I don’t like them being there.) This is our first snake this season which is pretty unusual. I thought I’d share the story, the video, and the…
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Being Vulnerable in your Writing
sometimes–this is a good thing There is a fine line in writing between being vulnerable, open, honest and being over-exposed. We walk this line, a tightrope of credibility with a chasm of wide-mouthed readership, an ocean of clappers below us, waiting to give us feedback. What if that feedback is in thought? The thought that…
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The Cat is a Thief
and other ramblings This morning I awoke to the terrible pain I’ve been dealing with the last few weeks and decided there just weren’t enough “soft” foods in the house. (If you need to catch up on “why the pain?” you can do that here.) At the store, my jaw clenched and dogged determination to get sustenance, I…
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At Home Amongst These
a poem The squishy-cool green beneath my feetmeandering before me, a path between trees.The bright arms of the sun reaching down,fingers of light, bringing growth to the ground. I can no longer get lost this way. I have come again. I wander againthrough the moss-strewn aislein gripping fear and anxiety-laden… I know they’ll be lost if I wander…
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Hunger
a poem I had a vision.A pole; horizontal, unmoving.Suspended from it — carrionin varying stages of decomposition; One, freshly hungdrips its life blood freedrip…drip…drip… Another, rottingbegun, its surface writheswith maggots and flies. The third is rot-wornblack, a carcass shellor its former self. The three hanging there just out of reach, as are mostthings when you are hungry. A bear, standing on…
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A Soul Set Free
a poem Lift up your face. You, there in the shadows, Head hanging in disgrace. There is no reason to sit full of fear, to shackle yourself to yesterday’s woes. There is no reason to feel rooted to guilt and shame no one knows. No reason to hold yourself back from all things wonderful all…
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Ladybug Journeys
a poem of a quiet afternoon A ladybug journeys up Hawkweed stem searching for another Dark-spotted red bug with which to fly high the ladybug labors on… A squirrel scampers through leaf litter and soil searching for another Nut she had buried some time ago Spring the squirrel labors on… Chickadee and titmouse nuthatch and goldfinch searching for another Black sunflower seed or millet or worm the…
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