By Ana Lisa de Jong — Everything’s a search for beauty, for meaning. Rounding the garden. Marking the days and the turning seasons. Drawing circles, making patterns, ensuring continuity. Joining …
By Ana Lisa de Jong — My God is the God of small things. Seeds. Newborn babies. Nutshells that contain multiple truths in humble small containers. My God is the …
By Ana Lisa de Jong — Sad There is something immensely sad resounding in the depths, and carrying on the airwaves. That is finding a response in us. The groaning …
By Ana Lisa de Jong— Everything is thank you if you look carefully. The trees that lose their leaves still raise their limbs. The earth farewells the sun, and moves …
Ana Lisa de Jong — Lent. Speak to me. A word that holds such hidden depths. Take me on your hallowed ground, untouched, and unturned yet by heart or mind. …
Ana Lisa de Jong — Looks deceive, dead seed pods and limbs bereft of leaves. Grey leaden sky, and chilling winter breeze. We hunker down, layered like the earth beneath. …
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