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.…
You must be logged in to post a comment.