October 13, 2017 / Creative Writing
Jeanne Murray Walker’s poem regrets how political decisions negatively affect the environment.
Mary, Mother of God, taker of hands,
bright pitcher wielding the life of life. You know
a woman with child must eat enough for two,
yet meek and mild prescribes some son of man
who holds the mighty high and lowly low,
who paints you pale but tinges Eve with stain,
who meets a holy hunger with reprimand,
for wonder’s a useless sword against her woe.
No! God-bearer, taker of holy chances,
vessel wielding tiny fingernails like pearls,
you moved toward Eve—no time for timid glances,
your sister’s foot was caught in serpent’s snarl.
Your full-of-child hands reached hers, reached the tree,
and by that hunger and reaching hand she’s free.
About the Author
Sarah Neff
Sarah Neff lives in Durham, North Carolina, where she is finishing a dual MDiv/MSW at Duke University and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She loves to work in devised and improvisational theater, and she hopes to continue studying how embodiment, creativity, and human healing interact. When she is not studying, Neff can be found Rollerblading, rafting, or potlucking with her friends at Oak Church.
Jeanne Murray Walker
October 13, 2017 / Creative Writing
October 13, 2017 / Creative Writing
Jillena Rose
November 12, 2012 / Creative Writing
November 12, 2012 / Creative Writing
In “Water Mission,” Jillena Rose offers a narrative of a childhood in Saigon, where she learned the prayer of “women in white silk laughing, letting water run over their fingers . . . another sound for praise.”