Journey of the Heart

  Sisterhood by Tara Anand Sis, how I wish you'd been with me Through the trauma and adversity; Knowing you and I were one Together we would have overcome The family strife, the pain, the shame The lack of love, the lies, the games; Had I had you by my side It could've possibly turned the tide, I may have walked right off that stage Instead I went into the cage. Sis how I wish you'd been with me Through my months of maternity; To hold my hand, and stroke my hair When it all just got too much to bear; 'Time to celebrate' they said When I just wanted to mourn in bed. . .  My career, my life, my carefree ways You'd have gotten me through those days. Sis how I wish when I was five You had come into my lonely life— To play and ride the swings with me Act silly, laugh and shout  in glee; But while God had other plans for you Here's something I really never knew I've been hoping to find you to this day - In every woman who has crossed my way. Tara Anand is a C...

Slow Down, Mind          by Vidya Chetan   We drift faraway from old ideals:  Have we lost our core values? This world runs behind wealth virtuous qualities seem obsolete.  Searching for  something , we tread unknown paths, sans concern for others.   With our gadgets, day & night: Connecting with far ones,  while snubbing those close by. Engrossed in this materialistic world we forget our own caretakers. Respecting elders—obeying them— has become a rare scene. Inconsideration and apathy empower us, our thoughts machine-driven, overindulgence in sense gratification slowing turning us into zombies and slaves.   We can’t live without our gadgets  but could manage without parents. Time spent with parents, siblings, friends: nothing but mere dreams now. We hurriedly meet and leave them.   Smart phones dumbing us down: having forgotten to play, read a book, chit chat with neighbors. Endlessly tied do...

  That Space by Carolyn Chilton Casas Asleep with the senses awake— that liminal space between  drowsiness and dreams where  the energy takes me time and again.   Minutes move slowly,  life at a standstill, nowhere  to be, nothing to do, only  inhale and then gently exhale again.   In a pocket of unknowingness from which creation springs,  I let go  of what I think I know,  unlearning and looking again.   Saying yes to uncertainty, trusting in the mercy  of a guiding source— a wink of assurance that  there’s still time left to get it right.                             Photograph by Elina-Sazonova Carolyn Chilton Casas   lives on the central coast of California, the perfect landscape for a love of nature, hiking, and playing beach volleyball. She is a Reiki master and teacher, whose favorite theme for writing is about ways to heal. Her stories a...

  Water Lettuce by Caroline Mellor The water lettuce has thick, spongy leaves and is covered in fine hairs. Its roots hang free so it is not anchored to the ground.  (I know this because David Attenborough tells me so, his blue eyes twinkling like fresh water). I think of all the unmoored souls on the planet, cast adrift, roots severed or cut. Not anchored in place. Those who, like me, feel the loss of connection to ancestral home and wisdom,  to themselves. The water lettuce has some remarkable adaptations, says David.  Its free-floating roots mean it can travel. What a beautiful teaching, I thought, for anyone whose roots have been torn up, for anyone who finds family to be a place of wounding rather than of anchoring. To know that they can travel the flooded rivers and the great highways of life gathering all the minerals and nutrients they need from the water  as they go; to know that, like the water lettuce, being rootless,  they too have one more rema...

Lightning by Hafsa Mumtaz  Flashing in the nocturnal dark, Breaking the wintry silence: Like a messiah is a glittering mark Swimming in your heart like fluorescence; Like Zuko's redemption arc Becomes The Avatar's essence; Like a knight on a galloping horse Vitreous in the moon's slashes; Like a kintsugi would enchant and endorse The trivia, the imperfections of gashes In pots or marvelous flambé ceramic – Glistening light violet cracks balsamic. Hafsa Mumtaz,   aged 23, is an emerging poet and writer based in Pakistan. She is currently working on her M.Phil. in English Literature. Her works (poetry, and short fiction) have appeared in  Visual Verse ,  The Rising Phoenix Review ,   Women’s Spiritual Poetry ,  The New Verse News ,  Poetry Potion, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, Terror House Magazine, Ravi Magazine, The Sandy River Review, Couplet Poetry, Corvus Review, and is forthcoming in Bewildered Souls Anthology: Volume I, by The Black Inks Publ...

  Not Anonymous by Ayala Zarfjian I see your drawing on the wall of block 27. An empty baby carriage for your doll. The doll with the light brown hair and hazel eyes. Wearing a mustard yellow dress  with a navy blue collar. What did you name her? Rebecca or Gitty, Shayna or Deborah. I will never know.  I envision you before your life was taken. In a lush garden, singing while you hopscotched as you embraced your doll. A vivacious child with a beautiful name and soft, delicate hands. Your hair swayed when you jumped and ran,  your spirit full of light. You are not anonymous. Your life is remembered. Your drawing displayed as testimony.  Your world ours. Your pencil lines etched in our consciousness.  (This poem originally appeared in A Corner of the World: Holocaust Poems for My Father by Ayala Zarfjian, Golden Dragonfly Press , Second edition, August 2022. To obtain your own copy, click here .)  Ayala Zarfjian  is   an Israeli-born American ...

Letting Go of Route 66 by Sharon Grau I want to drive all the way through Rt. 66- In all of our faithful chaos and romantic unpredictability, Like a discarded bouquet of aging roses, I want to breathe again, across the boundary lines- Through the desert of poems I’ll never share, and the bleeding words we’ll never speak, What I really want to do is lie underneath the ancient stars, where all of us were made, and just let go of Rt. 66, in a complete surrender to the never ending Sky. Sharon Grau:   I am a Licensed Massage Therapist who lives near the sea in Asbury Park, NJ. I grew up in the midland/central NJ area but in 2015, I made the choice to move closer to the Atlantic Ocean. Ever since I was a little girl I have been enchanted by the natural world; at the age of 12, I began trying to describe this enchantment through the world of words and art. My love for art and poetry continued into my college years where I took classes in painting, photo...