by Lamar Neal Last night, I had a dream that my mother died And I woke in a cold sweat awaiting her voice. As I awaited for her to answer my calls, I cried Unsure how I would live if God made his choice. In that moment, life itself became surreal And every fairy tale proved itself as fake. Though Read More
Tag: grief
In Pilates Class
by Ray Ball, PhD Sometimeswe do a movecalled The Elephant.Legs splayed evoking the memoryof the animal’s shape,its proboscis reaching.The muscle memoryof the hips that storeso much emotionthat never forgetstretched tau(gh)tologically.I read somewherethat elephants mourntheir dead. If onlymourning could beclear and simple,brash like the trumpetingof a pachyderm.If only what I buriedstayed under the earth,but the elephant digs it up, the fragile Read More
I still forget
By Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar Today, in the evening, I had gone to the CVS store on the corner Market and Main to buy a bottle of the Airborne pills. A friend had advised me to start taking those in advance before my planned travel to my country, India, next week. It would help bolster my immunity against the change in Read More
The Afternoon of Your Cremation
by Leah Mueller Strip from bone and evaporate to wherever the dried blood goes. Memories seethe: your abrupt assault, your terrified love. Bulbous digits, teeth in a sawdust box embossed with an Indian’s head. Wishbone and sage. You always said I talked too much, though my voice never reached very far. I pretend you were kind, pretend you wanted our Read More
At the Memorial
by Leah Mueller Afraid to weep, my son carries his father’s ashes in a cardboard box. As water roils in the distance, he steps inside a crater filled with loose gravel, twists his ankle, crumples to the ground. We stand above, hands outstretched while he tosses in agony on the asphalt. On the shore, beachcombers climb dead tree branches, pick Read More