By Sarah Colby
That bath was my undoing,a ritual ended in ruin—the billow of the king’s cloaka rooftop shadow I never saw,his summons unexpected. To refuse the king is death—most days I wish I had.Instead, over and over I turnmy head away from the sharavof his unfamiliar breath. When he sent for youI waited with dates and honeycraving …
By Lara Niedermeyer
Segullah Literary Journal is pleased to announce the winners of our 2025 Writing and Art Contest. The prizes for this year’s contest were donated by a small group of Segullah supporters who value literature and art created by women of our faith. These winners met our continuing mission of provoking thought and greater understanding and …
By Lara Niedermeyer
Editorial Our February 2025 issue marks a year since Segullah started publishing again, and also our 20th anniversary as an organization. This year, we’ll continue to provide you with new writing and art quarterly, the exciting results of our current contest, as well as diving into offering online and in-person workshops, readings, and much more! …
By Linda Hoffman Kimball
When I first saw Joy Olney’s paintings, I was impressed with the glorious light that infused each canvas. It sparkled on water. It shone on an athlete’s face. It escaped from behind a wall. It shimmered on a sandcastle. Many of her paintings are spare–just a face, or sometimes NOT even a face just a …
By Shari Crall
Editorial My mother-in-law passed away last week, and to the end of her 89 years there were hurts in her life she said were too painful to talk about. We will never know why she was a teenage bride who divorced, leaving two little girls behind. She finally shared a little about her divorce from …
By Marilyn Bushman-Carlton
Love and romance (and tradition) meant giving it upfor the privilege of belonging to someone. What girl dressed for her wedding smells death in the white orchid,sees imperfections in the bright diamond? How easily I let it go, boxed it with a school play script,pep club outfit, rogue dreams of college, and baltered willingly into …
By Alison Linnell
I don’t know when my expectation began that a car should have all four hubcaps. It could have been in 1982, at seventeen, when I bought my first car—a red Ford Fiesta for $1,700—and worked many hours after school at Taco Time for $3.35 per hour to make the payment. It could have been when …
By Lorraine Jeffery
Every time I open the door of my elementary classroom, I remember. It was a Wednesday, and yes, sometimes I think of Wednesday’s child, the “full of woe” thing. My cellphone vibrated, and I knew it was Carl. My husband is the only one who calls me at work, and he only calls when it’s …
By Fae Ellsworth
Looking out living room windowsacred Datura’s winter branchesdrape clumsy on each other,their brown tangle seeps in grey airnear the pile of rocks too heavy to move—misshapen eggs, dropped unbrokenfrom an unseen giant in the sky.Three months now in my bisected life. I scattered your heavy white—North Rim sunset, kiva at Lost City Museum.For five days …
By Cherie Taylor Pedersen
From the editor: This piece contains poetry and journal excerpts from the author’s ancestors. The spelling and punctuation have been left in their original forms for authenticity. ’Neath persecutions road we smartFor pilgrims pathway roamFrom loving wives and children partAnd leave our much-loved home.’Tis true we neither drink nor swearNor enemies dispelTreat others kindly everywhereAnd …