Threads of Love and Hope by Luis Alberto Poma CriolloThe Quiet Rhythm of Hands
I have been thinking about the things we carry to keep ourselves anchored. When the world moves too fast, when the noise of the crowd threatens to pull us into its frantic pace, we need a ritual. Something small. Something that requires only…
The Echo of Ancient Vows
Why do we feel the need to bring the wild inside our temples? Perhaps it is because we have spent so long trying to separate ourselves from the earth that we have forgotten we are merely another branch of the same tree. We build stone walls…
Purple by Leanne LindsayThe Weight of Petals
I keep a pressed sprig of lavender inside a heavy dictionary, its color long ago surrendered to the pages. It is brittle now, a ghost of a scent that only returns when I turn the paper just right, catching the light of a late afternoon. We…