I love it when the clouds are painted cotton candy pink . . .
Diary of another day
Something miraculous and mysterious happens when we voice our stories — we give others permission to claim theirs too.
To my husband of nine years
Standing across from you in our college chapel, I feel more than luck. I feel fluttering in my chest — not fear or nerves, rather, an awakening.
Who I’ve been
I’ve been Alice, cradling close the lifelong pain of a childhood accident…
Small graces on a fall morning
Sunlight slices through the night, washing the world in color.
Why I write
Why do cicadas hum? / Why do chickadees whistle? / Why do coyotes cock their heads and howl
/ in the vast darkness?
Some thoughts on light
At the start of 2021, I chose “light” as my word of the year. 2020 had been a heavy year for our family. I needed a word that evoked levity, joy, hope.
My body, a wonder
She used to race, Nikes flashing across worn asphalt, Lakefront wind slicing against her, heart pounding, flying free. She swam, limbs threading Lake Michigan’s rough, cool waters, gulping air, rocketing herself forward, weightless. Back then, she measured her worth with numbers: pounds, pace, calories. Afraid of everything and nothing. She once saved two men fromContinue reading “My body, a wonder”
Ode to light-catchers
Call it foolish, call it futile, /
say flamboyant if you dare. /
As for me, I’ll call it radiance,
God only knows (a sonnet)
Where can we get a baby? / my son asks, his blue eyes piercing / in the morning’s heel.
Erin Strybis 