Welcome to the second edition of Women Raise Our Voices Newsletter. We selected the theme of letting go to honor the natural processes of autumn and the fall. We were closely affected by the terrible tragedy of the Lahaina fires this summer when our dear teacher and editor Marjorie St. Claire lost her home and pets in the fire. What follows is her letter to us regarding her trauma and her own experience of Letting Go.
Aloha Readers!
About the Autumn Equinox Issue
The women writers and artists whose creative expressions are featured in this issue of Women Raise Our Voices have been influenced by their experiences of letting go, each in their own unique way. We hope you enjoy this curated collection of women’s voices in word and image. Sincere thanks from the Women Raise Our Voices team!
Poetry Finalists
Waiting for Rain by Jeanne Shannon
Letting Go by Dee Horne
Leaving for University by Elaine Schwartz
Then and Now by Beth Prillwtz
Untitled by Rebecca Leeman
Let Go! by Regina Griego
relaxation by Samantha Stiers
A Widow Knows by Janice Alper
The Song Upon My Heart by Grace Elena Woods
Haiku by Grace Elena Woods
Let Us Be Fruitful for One Another by Laura Io Berg
Prose Finalists
The Archive by Mary Van Pelt
My archive of personal letters, original drafts and unfinished projects is preserved at the bottom of the Rio Grande County Landfill somewhere between Del Norte and Monte Vista, Colorado. The archive consists of boxes of various sizes, approximately 7.5 linear feet.
In the distance at the top of the hill I see giant bulldozers, a whirlwind of dirt and paper rises. That’s where I’m going for today’s funeral; I’m here to bury my cardboard boxes.
Shedding/Letting Go by Sipra Roy
The entire creation of earth, both animate and inanimate, flow in harmony with Nature, except the human species. Other than humans, all accept its different seasons both rough and friendly. In the rainy season plants grow lush green leaves but shed them in winter to give way to the spring and to welcome new life with budding leaves. They fight only for their own survival but never try to supersede Nature. They are destined to do so coherently. Similarly, snakes and some other insects also shed their skin as Nature intends them so as to sustain their welfare.
Lying Down by Rebecca Jo Dakota
It’s stuck. This thing in my nervous system. Somewhere I can’t even see it. It bothers me every day, this old feeling of striving, of “not good enough.”
Can I nudge it out to daylight? It’s in some pipe underground, or something, covered, in the dark. I need to see it to get rid of it, right? Where is the light going to come from to allow me to see this stuck thing? The flashlight on my cell phone won’t help.
Why I Wear Red Lipstick by Janice Alper
August 1985
My brother called. He never called, so I knew it was serious. “Mom’s not doing well, you’d better come.”
I hastily packed a small suitcase, left my four kids, my husband, my job, and flew from California to New York. When I walked into her house in Brooklyn, Mom, who had terminal breast cancer, sat slumped in a club chair in what used to be my bedroom. She wore an oversized plaid shirt; a newspaper lay open on her lap over a light blanket that covered her pajama bottoms. Her faded olive skin resembled dead leaves on the ground in autumn. I thought if I touched her, she’d crackle from the slightest pressure.
Loss of Life by Nereida Correa
One of my first patients was a kind, and gentle man who was a bartender, well known and well liked by all who knew him. He showed up to the emergency room with shortness of breath and lungs filled with fluid that we drained so that he could breathe. The fluid showed us Mesothelioma, a rare and deadly cancer related to exposure to asbestos and deadly in a short time. He died weeks later under my care, and I saw in front of his house, which was visible on my daily route to work, a big black bow. I knew before getting there that he had died. I thought of him today as I drove past that corner. His house is no longer there; it’s been replaced by a group of stores.
Messies by Gina T. Ogorzaly
“Oh, you’re from Albuquerque? Do you have messies?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by messies. What is that?”
My partner and I were in a taxi cab in New York City, chatting with the driver on our way to the Moynihan train station. We thought maybe he was talking about Messi, the soccer player.
“See, here it is,” he said. “We are passing it now on the left.”
“Oh, Macy’s! Now I understand!”
Chinese Medicine—Fall by Dairne McLoughlin
In Chinese Medicine, Fall is the season associated with the organ system of Lung (yin) and Large Intestine (yang). The emotion of this season is Grief.
I have always found Fall to be a very melancholy time. We are leaving the light (yang) of summer and heading to the darkness (yin) of winter. All of nature is beginning to make the transition, too. This is a time of contraction, a time to prepare for the darkness and inward reflection that is winter. As the mornings grow cooler and darker and the quality of the light through our windows in the morning has softened, shorter days bring more contemplative nights.
Art Finalists
Harvest
Photograph by Mary Van Pelt
Impermanence
Photography by Gina T. Ogorzaly
Emergence
Photography by Kathy Freise
Evening slips into my garden earlier at this time of year. I watch the blooms, resow seeds when petals shrink. In the first dark moments, I hold steady. Hidden light glimmers, a gift of quiet beauty in the coming night.
Release
Visual Art by Eyde Arndell
So Deep, So Long
Visual Art by Eyde Arndell
Creatrix Breath
Visual Art by Laura Io Berg
Kitchen Corner: Working with Essential Oils for Release & Letting Go
by Kristina Daniels, Animist Minister, Certified Aromatherapist, Artist
As the Northern hemisphere of our planet enters its Fall season, we witness an event of great inspiration centered around death and release. Autumnal leaves depart our world with one last exhibition of color and light before a tree releases the very thing that has helped sustain its life. Leaves are the main organ responsible for turning sunlight into food for our green cousins.
“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.” Lao Tzu
Acknowledgments
Our deepest respect and gratitude to all those who submitted entries for this issue. The selection committee enjoyed reviewing each poem, prose piece, and art entry submitted and appreciates you for sharing your work. We hope you will submit again to future WROV newsletters!
Thank you to volunteers who reviewed submissions: Kristina Daniels, Dairne McLoughlin, Dunya Moss, Gina Orgorzaly, and Yvonne Scott. And thank you to Rebecca Dakota for technical support and Denise Weaver Ross for her design expertise..
Editors
Coeditors: Nereida Correa is a physician in New York who writes professionally and for pleasure. Rebecca Leeman is a nurse- midwife in Albuquerque who writes for healing, for fun, and for putting words to grief and loss as a way of sharing with others. Both have been students of Marjorie St. Claire.
Editor: Andi Penner is a writer and published poet with extensive experience as a professional editor. She is currently working on a memoir.
Our gratitude for inspiring and helping create our vision for this newsletter goes to Marjorie St. Claire who provided the platform for this group to come together and carry this work forward.