Volume No. XVIII
Volume No. XVII
Volume No. XVI
Volume No. XV
Volume No. XIV
Volume No. XIII
Volume No. XII
Volume No. XI
Volume No. X
Volume No. IX
Volume No. VIII
Volume No. VII
Volume No. VI
Volume No. V
Volume No. IV
Volume No. III
Volume No. II
Volume No. I
Archives
Volume No. I
Volume No. II
Volume No. III
Volume No. IV
Volume No. V
Volume No. VI
Volume No. VII
Volume No. VIII
Volume No. IX
Volume No. X
Volume No. XI
Volume No. XII
Volume No. XIII
Volume No. XIV
Volume No. XV
Volume No. XVI
Volume No. XVII
Volume No. XVIII
Oh! Why would you flutter wings dance and sing!? Look at yourself. You are Nothing of the woman you used to be ! - or so he quipped - She knew. Truth is what it is. Pause. Inhale. Swallows words as she would pills. Traces scars knowing they won't bleed. Oh! his taglient words finger her wounds just when she sensed the stir of healing snaking her withins - joy blossom dancing vibrations enlightened awakenings. Silent, gratitudefilled she venerated the adored kiss Life's breath had breezed to her fingertips. Held it close. close. pressed its wonder to her lips inside the timelessness of Now.
Maria Massarella, a three-year cancer survivor, writes from her home in Modena, Italy. She was born in a seaside town between Rome and Naples "where the legend of Ulysses still reigns and one can almost hear the Siren's lure." Maria says, "I began to write to keep alive the English language in me." More of Maria's work can be found at www.pathetic.org, an interactive poetry community.
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