By Jane Finlinson-Hodgkinson
We once kneltto the earthknees kissing mud,in order to seeour reflection in water. Submersing our lipsto satisfy thirst,while the appearanceof our image wasan afterthought. And now,watch-how we raise our chins,guzzling from glass and steel yes,we have come to love ourselvesmirrored back sharply! Lost,are the littleripples and waveswhich once gentlydistorted and changedhow we saw ourselves,back in …
By Anya Horman
If God is spinning the solar system,like a top on His finger, if He times past, present, futureto one eternal round, time is no calamity to Him.He’s driving this car and He’ll pull over right now, if He needs to. Timeis His deep languorous bath. Time is a friend who will never disown us. Timeis …
By Alixa Brobbey
November—a creaky oak table.Doors open and close withthe arrival of hands. They carry salt, and patchedplates, and boundless bowls.Lemons and limes insidelustrous white bowls. Nobody warned me how griefmultiplies. Cups filled with vinegar,and more vinegar. More cups. And more cups. If I could, I would scoopstrange griefs from sore hands,like siphoning seeds fromcitrusy pulp. My …
By Mikayla Johnson
PART I: The Home Scents Collection 1. “2033 N. 825 E.” Notes of baby powder, chocolate chip cookies, vanilla, lilac, crayon shavings and torn paper. 2. “Aunt Kristen’s House” Notes of laundry soap, air-popped corn, ballpoint pen ink, Lysol wipes, cooked marshmallows. 3. “The Grandma Reesa” Notes of garden soil, raspberries with cream, chicken noodle …
By Anya Horman
For the mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee. –Isaiah 54:10 God could uproot you: sky island mountains,But peace and mercy He will not discard.This certainty flows from your …
By Anya Horman
“If the sisters should have faith to heal the sick, let all hold their tongues, and let everything roll on.” –Joseph Smith, Discourse, [Nauvoo, Hancock Co., IL, 28 Apr. 1842]. Women who knew–not their own power, but God’s,a gift given, spirit to spirit.Power over flesh to balm and binda community of sisters. Women who washed–for …
By Christie Axson Gardiner
A tropical storm in the Everglades,alone on a boat, we are baptizedby immersion from the sky: a remissionof our sins. Into Buttonwood Canalthe boat carries its unlikely pilgrims.With a sound no louder than the slip fromlife to death, a crocodile breaks the water’sskin then glides parallel, portside.I am not afraid. I see her now,this scale-haloed, …
By Christie Axson Gardiner
Divine silence is a specific pain,both “familiar and impossible.” Cheek to cheek, my newborn baby son. Remember how merciful, is God.Remember my own samadhi. Velvety aspen bark against my hand. Remember too, Jesus didn’t cometo save me from the Romans. Carpet-burned knees from praying. He is the God who weeps, divineeruptions upon every mundane day. …
By Heidi Naylor
I went to the temple of Godand wrote Volodymyr Zelenskyyon the page over which the saints pray. My president, too. But just nowI can’t bear to say his name, and it wasdifficult to write. I knelt at the altar on behalf of childrenand parents, of married women and men.Their names unfamiliar, difficult to say.Their lives, …
By Heidi Naylor
Let the fire of the covenant which you made in the House of the Lord burn in your hearts, like flame unquenchable. – Brigham Young in the midnight hour,remind me how my fatherstood behind the gossamer curtain–touched my hands,my quaking shoulder—spoke the bequestand beckoned:spark,signal,everlastingsolace