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  April 2020
volume 17 number 1
-table of contents-
 
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  featured poets
  Kathie Giorgio
  Edward Lee
  Jennie Lindthorst
  Frank Mundo
  Christine Murray
  Abdel-Wahed Souayah
  Ann Tweedy
  Viola Weinberg
  Martin Willitts Jr
 
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Jennie Lindthorst April 2020
   

 

bio

    Jennie Linthorst’s poetry has appeared in Bluestem, Edison Literary Review, Foliate Oak, Forge, Kaleidoscope, Literary Mama, Sanskrit Literary Arts Magazine, and Hopeful Parents. Jennie has published two books of poems, Silver Girl (2013) and Autism Disrupted: A Mother's Journey of Hope (2011), with Cardinal House Publishing. Jennie is the founder of LifeSPEAKS Poetry where she works with individuals exploring their personal histories through reading and writing poetry. She is on the faculty of UCLA Arts & Healing and has presented workshops at the Los Angeles Expressive Arts Summit, The California Center for Creative Renewal, the Manhattan Beach Unified School District, UC Irvine Extension, the University of Santa Monica, and the National Association for Poetry Therapy. Jennie has a master’s degree in Spiritual Psychology from the University of Santa Monica, certification in poetry therapy from the National Federation of Biblio/Poetry Therapy, and a BA from Skidmore College. More information can be found on her website at www.lifespeakspoetrytherapy.com.

   

 

A Cleared Away Path of Worthiness

I long to uncover the roads
my mother would have chosen.

Each year I live beyond her age of death,
I stack time like firewood against my house.

I gape at the shimmer aging can bring–
how golden light of a longer life

unveils a cleared away path of worthiness.

I long to record our talks in my kitchen,
a glass of wine in her hand,

her brown eyes seeing me,
finally seeing this life I have built

one log upon another,
stoking embers of time.



copyright 2020 Jennie Lindthorst

   

 

I Ask the Harvest Moon

Please, eclipse the annual reminder
of how an afternoon can splinter
around my mother’s death,

then spin around to sing celebrations
of another year, another year
offered to me in this world.

I ask the Harvest moon to rise
over that long-ago Tennessee day,
a week before my birthday.

Root me, now, in California,
where surf rolls over bare feet,
seasons shift with a whisper.

Birth me again, October,
into burnt colors, cracks of leaves
scattered in a wind.

copyright 2020 Jennie Lindthorst

   

 

A Shroud That Enveloped a Nation

                        -after the Texas Shootings, 2019

You will never be alone,
I want to say
to the victims left behind–

blood-soaked, shattered,
watching their loved one
roll away on a stretcher.

But they are alone, for now,
in a cavern of trauma,
taking those first steps

into the void of grief.
Too many now,
wrapped in black

in a land of color.
I offer you my worn-out maps
out of my own caves of loss,

my head held in prayer for you,
oxygen for a world
that cannot breathe.



copyright 2020 Jennie Lindthorst