WHEN I WAS NAKED I was the sturdy bowl of plums half-buried in snow outside the artist’s studio. He paints the shades of purple reflected in condensed water on my skin. I was the snowy hill topped by a nun’s black habit, a fall of dark hair descending to wintry shoulders, an infinite… Read More Poem of the Day: Michalle Gould
We all have such differing definitions and expectations of grief. When asked to define grief, love, beauty, we often begin to play a game of word association, or we resort to metaphors and personification. Pain and sorrow. My heart hurts. It’s like a well that never fills up. But when I think about grief…… Read More Grief as Celebration & Grief as Beauty: Reading Michalle Gould’s Resurrection Party
