Instructions for Motherhood Gut the herring. Cover your body in ash. Thorn with the blood that grows from the roses. Layer dirty linens with hot water and lye. Beat the caustic bleach that forms. Seed the ingredients for medicines and…
Browsing: MER Online
Winter Baby Tell me the truth, I said to my friend, who had just given birth. How bad is it? You won’t believe the blood, she said, for which truth, I am indebted. And January, especially, is no time for…
Teaching as a Form of Self-Care I slept straight through election night. The next morning after learning the results I called my youngest daughter before her father took her to school. She’s a sensitive child; the kind of sensitive we…
Sunflowers Just inside the gate, the rise and fall of dying sunflowers: disheveled petals and downcast eyes. Then a flick of wing and I realize a sparrow is locked in a kiss of life, face deep in the flower’s, seed…
Ten Self-Care Tips It was cold and dark when I left, but I had no choice. If I was going to hear even a whisper of my own thoughts, let solitude massage my attitude, and feel my shoulders release while…
return to the bush the women in the pink kitty hats need to go get their cousins. the apocalypse now crew has been selected to the run the country and it was not done by our hands. we have carried…
Unplug, Rest, Be Grateful Self -care, a term we often associate with eating right, exercising and living righteously but if we really dig deep, self-care involves more than that. Although it sounds easy it is one of the most difficult…
To Satya From Satya February 15, 2017 Before I left home for the last day of the writers’ conference, I placed the blank cards, the heart stickers, the 18 envelopes and the list of first grade kids’ names on the…
Aleppo in the Heart of the Living Room Every soul needs a proper chaperone to say nothing of a champion. Especially after sloshing around this broken world. My heart lacks a tenant, though each chamber stands wallpapered and ready for…
Origami I’ve read about women who say they can’t write New mothers, their arms a cramped night, crescent They hold what they cannot yet tell. My baby was milky paper to me then, a smooth sheet, the inverse. But I…