Love & Lavender

Dec 5

LOVE & LAVENDER, a collection of poetry in support of The Lavender Project: a queer-led pop-up library & outreach project based in Scott County, TN, uplifting LGBTQ+ voices, sharing books, and building community.

First, a quick Q&A with Lavender Project founder Ren Wilson offers a glimpse into how the project started, what services are currently available, and the ways in which community members & allies can get involved and support the movement. Following is a selection of poems, highlighting themes of inclusivity, acceptance, belonging, and love.

When and with whom do we feel most accepted and celebrated? How do we honor love in its many shapes and forms? How do we live in right relationship with our neighbors? What happens when relationship breaks down? Is there a chance for repair after rupture? How can we claim our place in community, especially when the atmosphere isn’t the most welcoming? How do we respond to hostility and erasure? How do we heal from harm done to us? How do we acknowledge harm we have done to others, regardless of our intentions? How do we move through difficulty and discomfort and return to love?

The Scribes address these questions and more through their poetic explorations, ending up in deep conversation with one another about their own personal experiences navigating family, friendships, relationships, religions, and institutions.

As you read, please do so with care. Keep an open mind & heart, along with a willingness to listen & learn from others, and consider how we might move forward together, centering kindness & community connection.

Featuring the following poets:

Sheena Fry King
Stephen Young
Helga Kidder
Joshua Walker
Frances Denise
Brandon Thorpe
Cameron Cox
Gracen Oscar
Julia Christine
Diona Marie
Heather J Matney
Kristian Obrusanszki
Olivia Gilreath
Guiliana Noto
Cheyanne Leonardo
Blair Correll
Ren Wilson

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Q&A with Ren Wilson,

founder of The Lavender Project.

1. Introduce yourself. What’s your name? Who are you? What do you do? What do you enjoy?

My name is Ren Wilson (he/they), and I’m the founder of The Lavender Project. I’m a community organizer and storyteller who believes deeply in the power of visibility, kindness, and education. Outside of this work, I love building creative projects, running small pop-up events, and helping others bring their ideas to life.

2. What is The Lavender Project? How & when did the project begin? How did you get involved?

The Lavender Project is a queer-led community initiative based in Scott County, Tennessee, focused on creating visibility, connection, and access to affirming resources for LGBTQIA+ people in rural Appalachia. We started this with the goal of building a mobile pop-up library that offers free queer-affirming books and community resources.

The idea came from noticing how few accessible spaces existed locally where queer people could simply feel seen, safe, and celebrated. What began as a few boxes of donated books and a folding table has grown into something much bigger—a visible movement toward belonging.

3. What specific services does The Lavender Project provide? How can other folks in our local community engage with the group?

Our main service right now is our mobile library pop-up, which travels to local events and community gatherings to give away queer and inclusive books for all ages—from picture books to memoirs. We also share free educational resources, help connect people to local and national support organizations, and collaborate with allies to make community events more inclusive.

Folks can engage by donating books, volunteering at events, or simply stopping by our table to learn and connect. Every small action—even just showing up—helps us keep going.

4. What upcoming events can our community look forward to with The Lavender Project?

We don’t have any confirmed events scheduled at the moment, as we’re taking a little time to plan and regroup for our next round of pop-ups and community outreach. Folks can follow us on social media to stay updated on upcoming opportunities, book drives, and future events—that’s where we’ll post the latest news once new dates are set.

5. How can local folks lend support to the project? What are the best ways to get involved and/or donate?

We always welcome book donations, particularly LGBTQIA+ and youth-friendly titles, as well as general books we can sell or trade to help fund our outreach. Folks can also donate supplies, volunteer at events, or support us financially to help with storage, printing, and transport costs.

The best way to stay updated and get involved is by following our social media pages or reaching out to us directly—every bit of support, whether material or moral, makes a difference.

6. Share some memories or moments of triumph!

At our last pop-up event for Halloween, we faced some tension after a local church group—who had previously mentioned plans online to confront us—set up nearby, handing out their own flags and books. It created an atmosphere of division we hadn’t experienced before, and seeing families pull their children away from our table was difficult.

But even in that moment, there were beautiful reminders of why this work matters. One little girl came up and asked if we had any candy. We had just run out, so we told her no—and without a word, she reached into her pail, pulled out a single piece of candy, and placed it on our table. That small act of kindness brought me to tears.

Later that same day, a little boy stopped by and asked if our pride flags were free. We told him they weren’t, since they help us raise funds for our outreach. A while later, a gust of wind knocked the flags over, and that same boy came running to help us pick them up. After we finished, he looked up and asked again, “Wait—you said these weren’t free, right?” I smiled and told him, “For you, they are.” His whole face lit up. He chose a rainbow flag and left grinning ear to ear.

Moments like those remind us that even in the middle of tension and division, kindness and connection can still shine through. Those small interactions are what keep us going.

7. How can our local community better support our queer friends & neighbors in day-to-day activities?

Listen. Use people’s names and pronouns. Speak up against hate, even when it’s uncomfortable. Support queer-led projects, and make space for our voices without trying to speak over them.

Small acts of respect—a kind word, an inclusive sign, a moment of understanding—can completely shift how safe someone feels in their own hometown.

8. What advice would you give to a younger queer person, struggling to fit in or looking for a sense of belonging?

You don’t have to shrink to fit somewhere small. The world is much wider than what you see right now, and there are people—even if you haven’t met them yet—who will love you for exactly who you are. Don’t give up before you find them. You belong, and your story matters.

9. What are some of your favorite books/authors? Why?

Some favorites include Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas, The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School by Sonora Reyes, Borrow a Boyfriend Club by Page Powars, and We Are Everywhere by Matthew Riemer & Leighton Brown. Each one captures a different kind of strength, honesty, and queer joy that feels both personal and universal.

10. Is there anything else about the project, yourself, or the local queer community you want us to know?

Our mission is simple: to make sure no queer kid or adult in rural communities ever feels alone again. The Lavender Project isn’t about staying hidden—it’s about showing up, being seen, and proving that love, knowledge, and community can take root anywhere. From small towns in Tennessee to quiet corners of Kentucky, we’re creating spaces where queer people can feel visible, valued, and free to express themselves without fear.

At the heart of what we do is a deep belief in the power of stories. Literature helps people see themselves reflected in ways that heal and inspire—it reminds us that our voices matter. Every book we share, every conversation we start, and every small act of visibility brings us one step closer to a world where everyone can live and love openly.

For more information, to get involved, or to connect with us directly, you can reach us at: Info@lavenderoutreach.org or find The Lavender Project on Facebook.

Love & Lavender

LIFTED TOGETHER

In a world that often turns away,
A hand extended can light the day.
A word of kindness, a gentle smile,
Can carry someone that extra mile.

I’ve known the warmth of being seen,
Of finding peace where pain had been.
Support like sunlight through the rain,
Softening sorrow, easing strain.

But not all hearts have felt that grace,
Some walk alone in silent space.
So let our love be wide and true,
A bridge for those who can’t get through.

Acceptance isn’t just a gift—
It’s how we heal, how spirits lift.
To say “you matter,” loud and clear,
Can chase away a lifelong fear.

Let’s build a world where all belong,
Where differences make our voices strong.
Where lifting others lifts us too,
And hope is something we renew.

So take your light, and let it shine—
On every soul, in every line.
Together, we can rise above,
A world made better through shared love.

–Sheena Fry King

⚘

TOGETHER THE FEATHERS FLY

Do you see the haze of partisanship?
Are you smelling the stench of all of
the empty inequities fogging
up the streets...
I can.

Can you sense that ever growing
pressure that pounds against
the walls of oppression?
The assurance of discrimination
without commiseration?
I can.

But even with all the fear.
Through the stomping of giants above us.
I still can hear the beating of the wings.

But how long can silence hold us down?
How long ‘til hearts start making sound?
The sky is cracking, the storm is near,
but I see something rising here.

Flocking are the governed who
dare refuse tyranny.
Flocking are the “independents" still
subjugated despite decades of dissent.
Flocking is a mutiny of sharp beaks and talons
of all shapes and colors.

Our feathers pour over the horizon and cast
their glistening individuality with ease.
Soaring bravely against all fear.
And not landing till the trumpets cheer.
And the flags fly alongside the breeze.

At the end of the day,
When the grey fades away,
The colors will beam through the clouds...
A beautiful rainbow, and everyone will know
That our feathers are still standing proud.

–Stephen Young

⚘

LISTEN TO YOUR OWN SONG

In the Buck moon spiritual growth fills
your mind, encourages you to let go
of traditions. You listen to your desire
of growing a new life closer to the fringe.
It feels right. Walking through the thin veil
between worlds, you release the one
that no longer aligns with your path, now
connected to inner wisdom and clarity
of who you are. Bathing your face in
the light of the moon, confirming your
new self: Sunday’s child is happy and gay.

–Helga Kidder

⚘

THREADS BETWEEN US

Love does not always shout.
It lingers in quiet corners:
a hand brushing another’s, unnoticed,
a laugh shared over nothing,
the way someone remembers your favorite song
before you even ask.

These moments are threads, thin but unbroken,
stretching between hearts across rooms, streets,
sometimes years,
binding strangers, friends, lovers
into a tapestry too subtle for the eye to see.

We carry them with us,
the invisible stitches that hold the world together,
and when we pause, just long enough,
we feel the warmth of a hundred gentle hands
holding us all at once,
a quiet insistence that we are never truly alone.

–Joshua Walker, The Last Bard

⚘

LAVENDER

These lavender ghosts
Usually a quiet presence
Yet sometimes they paint the sky
Just as they did yesterday

I am comforted by their gentleness
I am reminded that the sun sees my sins
So, when I am still choosing to hide,
When I have yet to forgive myself
I am grateful for the knowing
That I am seen and held in this

I am reassured that the letters I never sent
The stories I never shared
They are real, they are heard
A home is made for them within the unseen
In the in-between
In the vapor that rises from the rivers
Shifting into clouds
To fall as rain
Upon the living and the dead
Creating and recreating life

And in another time
In another place
The spirits decide to speak again
Returning as tiny purple petals
With an unforgettable scent
Filled with diaries from the water's edge
A soft invitation to listen closely
To the music of belonging

–Frances Denise

⚘

LET LOVE BE THE LIGHT

They say love is patient, love is kind,
Yet some draw lines, leave hearts behind.
They preach of grace from sacred scrolls,
But cast out souls to keep control.

I’ve heard the hymns, the Sunday cries,
Of mercy flowing from the skies.
But mercy must be lived, not sung—
In every heart, by every tongue.

If Christ walked here, what would He do?
He’d break the chains, embrace the true.
He’d dine with those the world denies,
And lift the low with loving eyes.

So let us not be gatekeepers of grace,
Nor judge the ones we won’t embrace.
For love is not a narrow lane—
It blooms in joy, it grows through pain.

You may not understand their way,
But still, you’re called to love today.
To hold no hate, to cast no stone,
To see each life as not your own.

Let love be louder than your fear,
Let kindness draw the outcast near.
And if your faith is truly deep,
Then sow the peace you claim to reap.

For every soul deserves the light—
A chance to love, a chance for flight.
So lead with grace, and walk the line
Where love is free, and hearts align.

–Sheena Fry King

⚘

FAULTLESS LOVE

Brady became a man who watches for signs
pulling magical messages out of the sky
Reading too much into numbers he finds
and believes in the opportunities
his horoscope provides.
Swiping the phone until a religious
affirmation appeared, potentiated
with the mysterious warning
to stop scrolling here,
God wants you to see this
but it's always a Hallmark card
“As old doors close, new ones
open” and
“everything happens for a reason”
but it made him feel better.

One time he worried if
what he was doing was really
wrong, like a few family members
had said all along,
and flipped through the bible
with closed eyes until he landed on
a page that felt right, and ran his
finger down the page until it stopped
on a line
And all it said was
“Let all that you do be done
in love”
He forgot all the mean stuff
they’d punished him with,
testing his every decision
against that principle
“Am I choosing this out of
love”
and wouldn't you know it.
It didn't interfere with a thing.

The universe has a special way
of letting you know
its translators
don't understand what it's saying
and
If you feel your heart move as fiercely as
flesh from flame,
or pull away from the cold
like a worm squirming from pain
follow it
against all gods and devils of existence.

–Brandon Thorpe

⚘

BROKEN

I'm always looking for ways it was my fault, how I could have done better, what I did wrong, and when I can't find anything I just sort of wonder, is this going to be the thing that leaves me too broken to ever be loved?

Because I'm too broken to return love.
Because this will be the thing that makes me panic and run at the first sign of discord.
Because this small thing that I thought nothing of the first time turned into something so much bigger.
Because this is a small thing... But is it only a small thing, or is it an indication of abuses yet to come?
Because my experience tells me it's an indication of abuses to come...
But it's such a small thing.
A misunderstanding?
Or intentional slight?
How do I know the difference?
I have to trust you to tell me...
But how do I know I can trust you?
How do I know you aren't lying?
Because past partners lied.
They said it was a mistake, a misunderstanding, an accident.
And then they did it again
And worse
And again
And worse
And again
And worse
And worse
And worse
And worse
And how do I know you're different?
How do I know?
I don't.

If all I did wrong was leave too quickly, I can live with that.
I've seen what happens when you stay too long, and it nearly killed me.

So when will I be too broken to trust?
Maybe I already am.

–Cameron Cox

⚘

HOURGLASS

Noble last vestiges of color,
trees cling to their leaves like threads to the seams of my weathered coat, more hole than weave—the wind cuts through, dregs of autumn passing phantasmal chills through my form.
Sometimes, you hang on bloody-nailed to the things that no longer serve you,
waiting for the change to come,
hoping that it will.
In a few months time, buds will erupt from cradles of dormant branches,
and I'll take up a needle, and repair some time-earned damage.

–Gracen Oscar

⚘

NEEDLE AND THREAD

Taking a step back to see the flame burn in your desire.
Was she as pretty as me?
Did you acknowledge her beauty?
Pains and kills me to see you happy.
If love wasn’t enough… then what ever was?

Diamonds are all falling apart.
My needle and thread weigh heavy on your heart…
Crying out loud while you sleep.
Crying out loud, while you sleep ever so softly…

–Julia Christine

⚘

I’LL REMEMBER

I'll miss your name on my tongue in slow days,
I'll remember that tune you picked a time or two or ten
I forgot your address, but I could still come through now, if you asked me
I regret the disconnect of distance, and the assumption everything was fine
Plenty of questions have gone unasked, and perhaps are better that way
Still, they scream on loop, like conversations about Daft Punk and formulas in pop
I prefer not to listen to Chop Suey anymore, not for lack of trying,
So know it's burned into my skull
I hope you're doing better, now
I hope I get to speak to you soon
Soft spoken but volumes above what I've heard
I wish I still remembered that book’s name

–Diona Marie

⚘

NEVER AGAIN

A funny thing happens
when someone is so hurt
they don’t care anymore
they stop taking showers
and let filth pile up on the floor.
they stop their hobbies
stay indoors
and don't keep up
with their friends anymore
But if they see someone else
In the same situation as
themselves
They’ll stand up and yell
“Leave them alone”
They fight a whole crowd
shout them all down
They’ll take on the cops
take on the whole
town.

They know in their hearts
there’s no help for themselves
but they’ll be damned if it happens
to anyone else.

–Brandon Thorpe

⚘

THE NECTAR OF THEIR LOVE

Though my belly is gently full
My hunger is not sated and
Desire has yet to be fed
My fingers lazily trace lines
Into my age-worn skin
Browned from the sun
And warmed from the water
The only taste it's received
In months
Thirsty, I see their words
And hear their thoughts
Yet alone I stay, swimming in the
Deep pools of my own internal dialogues
Quietly, loudly
A content discontent
The same shadows whose grasp
I avoid, I open my arms to, and
Invite them into my lonely embrace
To have and to hold
To keep me within the bondage
Of this god-forsaken place
The aches run deep
Snaking betwixt muscles, tendons
And burying their heads down
Into the depths of my bones
Gnawing and snapping
Gnashing nasty teeth that refuse
To let go
For I am no fool,
I know they cannot
Take the burden of this fucked up body
Hell-bent on destroying itself
Out of my tired hands
And into theirs
I only seek to sink slowly
Beneath the weight of their touch
To drown my thoughts
In the pools of warm caresses
To trade the burden of feeling
What I cannot control for
The ambrosia of an embrace,
The nectar of their love

–Heather J Matney

⚘

TO MY FUTURE LOVER

I would like to apologize in advance
because you are going to feel blindsided
when I come to you three days later to let you know
that I’m still upset about a conversation you thought was over.
The thing is, I couldn’t have that conversation then,
because in that moment I was angry.
I was upset.
I was… I was triggered.
What you said reminded me so powerfully
of something absolutely horrific that somebody else had done in the past
that I lost my ability to think clearly.

I am wounded, and you popped a stitch.
And that’s not your fault!
I am not blaming you; you didn’t even know the wound was there.
But I was still bleeding from it.
And I couldn’t explain about the wound right then,
Because in that moment, when I was in that much pain,
The only thing I wanted to do was rip your fucking throat out with my teeth.

But I still love you.
And I know that you didn’t cause that wound.
So instead, I retreated.
I took the time I needed to make sure
that I wasn’t bleeding all of my trauma onto you.
I stitched up my own wound
because even though I didn’t put it there either,
It’s on my body, so it’s my responsibility to take care of.

Now that the pain has subsided and I’m not actively bleeding anymore,
I’m coming back to you to let you know that the wound is there.
And I’m asking you
please
be careful to not pop another stitch.
Because I really don’t want to hurt like that anymore.

This is how I hold myself accountable.
When the only choice my body gives me
is “fight or flight”
I am choosing not to fight.
I am choosing to flee
to calm down
And return to you when I can be rational
and not just wounded.

–Cameron Cox

⚘

SADNESS IS BORING

Depression is a transmissible disease
Infecting the healthy.
No matter how well you try to hide
they can tell something has changed
Inside
and change a little themselves.

It’s hard for the healthy to maintain empathy
for months at a time
with the weight of the world weighing
down on their backs,
their help is in bed
the whole day
cause they’re sad.

The depressed themselves know,
they've sacrificed pride to buy time
another night at home, another day of sleep,
It all tastes the same so you don’t need much
to eat

An empty inflated chip bag that’s been re-sealed
and put back on the shelf so it could be passed
off as real.
Seems like people are just being nice,
when they shake it and find out there's nothing inside,
but they’re kind enough to put it back up the same way
They won't put it in their cart,
but they won't throw it away.

I try to finish these on a happy note,
but an abundance of authenticity
requires the lack of
hope.
... Ohh, I don't know.

The world can be sad and it hurts us all to a different
degree. What I survived could kill you, and what you
survived could kill me.
We've beat it all so far, disease, disaster,
destructive patterns
we’re all alive today
and today is what matters

–Brandon Thorpe

⚘

IMPOSSIBLE, WHAT'S POSSIBLE?

It has become impossible
For me to live in the same way as before
I've always yearned for more
But this is different
I now must create
From this silent place
The nourished soil
A rich darkness
The sweet smell of the earth
No longer a starved heart
A lost perspective
Nor hollow cave
From a recovered wholeness
I set down roots
I write, I dream
I grow flowers
Soft and strong
Delicate –
Deceivingly so
Did you notice the geometry?
If you come close enough
You'll get pulled in
Their scent is their gravity
They say
All along
You belong
You can dance here –
But you must leave all your bags at the door
Come on in
Just you
Nothing more
We will grow trees
Thick oaks
And sycamores with slender branches
Leaves touching sky
And tomorrow,
Should you feel like it
We can fly

–Frances Denise

⚘

MUSIN’ (ON THE SUBJECT OF ART)

Lots of folks like
To dismiss the value
Of the spectrum called
Art

They eat, constantly,
Of its abundant fruit
Yet while out the
Other side
Their hands have already
Been busied
With the work of destroying
The very trees
From which they feast

...and wonder
Still yet
Does the fool
As to why they
Constantly starve

–Heather J Matney

⚘

SHADOWS BETWEEN US

This poem is for all the real-life Romeos and Juliets, Othellos and Desdemonas, Ennis’s and Jacks, and Stephens and Marys (from The Well of Loneliness) who have had to steal kisses in the shadows—or are still doing so. May love free us all.

For all the stolen kisses,
the whispered names,
the hearts racing beneath closed shutters,
love has always found a way
to bend the rules of light and law.

We move in the half-seen,
hands brushing in alleyways,
eyes locking under the cold embrace
of the moon,
our bodies small beacons
against a world that refuses to look.

Every shadow is a witness,
every wind a conspirator,
and still, we dare—
bold, urgent, alive—
to love in defiance,
to carve our truth
into the spaces between
what is allowed
and what is ours,
each heartbeat a spark against the dark.

–Joshua Walker, The Last Bard

⚘

MY LOVE

They told me many things about love
How it had a direction and a destination
Neatly boxed labeled and shipped
Always familiar and expected

My love felt safe and secure
No one to steal it
No one to tamper with it
No one to break it
Invulnerable to change

But life is fundamentally change
How could such a thing as love
Not move like the ocean waves
Or sway like the trees in the wind

They said it was wrong
To love in ways different
But I've come to see
They invented a problem
And scared us into a solution

A dear friend once told me
Never stop asking questions
Why must my love be constrained?
Who are you to defile love?
Isn’t love ours to share?

Love is always and never
Love is a spectrum
Love is harsh and decays but
Love persists with effort
Love is everything

Do not fear love
Nor it's many forms
For the ideas they scared into you
Vanish in love's care and communication

My love blossoms brighter
Now that it's been freed
In great thanks due to the ones
That wore bravery one day
And showed their love to me

–Kristian Obrusanszki

⚘

THE ROOT OF BELONGING

You cannot ask the world to hold you
until you hold yourself first.

Inside, a quiet tending:
pulling away the stones of doubt,
watering the parts of you
that have always been brave,
even when no one else noticed.

Acceptance grows slowly,
like roots beneath frozen earth,
unseen but steady,
finding hold in the dark.

And when it breaks through,
you do not stand alone—
the warmth you nurtured within
radiates outward,
touching hands, hearts, eyes
that were waiting for you all along,
a quiet bloom of belonging at last.

–Joshua Walker, The Last Bard

⚘

MINE IN YOU

In a world that hums with a thousand open doors,
I wander brightly—an extroverted spark
seeking places where laughter settles easily,
where my voice is not an echo
but a note that fits naturally into the song.

And then there is you—
steady as a lighthouse, warm as morning sun,
loving me in ways that feel like a quiet truth.
You gather all the untamed parts of me
with gentle hands and a smile that says,
“You belong exactly as you are.”

With you, I am a home unhidden.
With you, my colors don’t need softening.
You enrich my days with comfort so deep
it feels like the world finally learned my language.
You support the version of me that once felt too much—
too loud, too bright, too hopeful—
and instead you call it beautiful.
Because of you, the outside world feels less like a stage
and more like a place with room for my roots.

And if someone asked me
how to find acceptance when it feels far away,
I’d tell them this:

Seek the people who don’t ask you to shrink.
Seek the arms that don’t measure you
before opening.
Seek the places where your laughter fits,
where your silences are understood,
and where your dreams aren’t dismissed as noise
but welcomed as music.

You deserve love that feels like arrival—
like stepping into a room where your name
has already been saved a seat.
You deserve a world where you're not tolerated,
but celebrated.

And I found mine in you.

–Olivia Gilreath

⚘

THE HANDS AND PAWS THAT GUIDE ME

In realms of affection, where hearts intertwine,
A tapestry woven with love so divine,
I sing of the souls that brighten my days,
In Kentucky's embrace, where my spirit sways.

My little sister, with curls so bright,
And eyes of blue, like stars in the night,
A spirit untamed, a laughter so free,
In her presence, pure joy I forever see.

My father, a guardian, with gaze so blue,
Short, dark hair framing a wisdom true,
He raised me with strength, guided my way,
In his love and protection, I find solace each day.

Thor, our pitbull, with coat of brown and white,
A gentle protector, a loyal knight,
In his eyes, a love that knows no bounds,
With every wag, my heart resounds.

Jojo, the Chihuahua, with fur as white as snow,
A tiny companion, wherever I go,
In her presence, comfort and warmth I find,
A loyal friend, so gentle and kind.

From Kentucky's heartland, we come as one,
Bound by love, beneath the setting sun,
In this cherished haven, our spirits align,
A family united, forever entwined.

At school, a sanctuary, where friendships bloom,
With kindred spirits, dispelling all gloom,
Like family, they stand, side by side,
In their laughter and support, my heart finds pride.

An amazing support system, a gift so rare,
Unwavering acceptance, beyond compare,
In their presence, I'm free to be me,
No judgment, just love, eternally.

Through life's winding journey, we navigate with grace,
In the love of these souls, I find my sacred space,
With hearts open wide, and spirits so free,
Together we thrive, for all eternity.

In every moment, gratitude I embrace,
For the love that surrounds me, in this sacred space,
With family and friends, a bond so true,
In their presence, my heart forever renews.

–Guiliana Noto

⚘

GOLDEN RUSH

think about how the sunshine touches,
traces warmth across your skin –

sometimes the world lies and i’ll confess
that i’ve cried, forgotten
all but anguish.

so the god’s honest truth is
i live
for the golden rush of joy that comes
with a kiss
a wink
a nod
a hug –

a reminder of the unending love
that exists

all around us – both in our breath
and in our midst.

–Cheyanne Leonardo, from Hometown Poems

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LEAVES IN THE WIND

Love is holding on
when the storm rips through the branches,
when the wind yanks at everything
you thought was steady.

It is the leaf that refuses to let go,
though others fall around it,
though the cold shakes the bones of the tree,
and the sky grays with doubt.

Persistence is quiet heroism:
leaning into the gusts,
clinging with every fiber
to the place where you belong,
to the heart that remembers your name.

And when the storm passes,
you are still here.
Still holding.
Still luminous,
a single leaf blazing against the sky.

–Joshua Walker, The Last Bard

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ASBESTOS WAS ACCLAIMED AS AN EXCELLENT FIRE RETARDANT. IT ALSO CAUSES CANCER.

My head rests against the car window, motion of the highway rattling my teeth in my small skull.
I see the mountain’s peak crest the horizon
and know that I am home.

Fire strikes in the dry season—
at night you can see spots of
trees ablaze, incandescent
orange glow on the foliage
like the call of fireflies through
the crisp summer nights of my youth.

The land bore the marks of the blaze for a while yet, scorched
paths torn ragged across the underbrush.

I bore them too. The walls were closing in then, flame
licking at my heels. The deer and birds and vermin fled the
destruction, and I alongside them,
a wild thing all my own.

In the clearing we gathered, and we could not discern
our soot-covered fur from
the shadows we cast upon the ground.

The embers retained their heat. In time,
our scarred hands have used them to tend the hearth over razing the home.
We have come from afar, specked with the shining marks of countless little fires. In our
nascent, fledgling forest, the lingering heat warms our hearts, not burns our bodies—at daybreak,
a sharp beam of sunlight cuts
across the ashen earth.
My home has gone, but as a tree
forms its mottled flesh around a wound, it has reformed anew—
green, young, resplendent.

–Gracen Oscar

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RISING

Early in the rising
When the world is still asleep
Is when the angels shed their tears
And share gentle giggles

They untangle and they weave
Walking through grief and writing dreams
Exchanging stories of loss and triumph
They recenter, together, and come back to their hearts

Soon the others will awaken
And we shall have the warmth ready
Giving, pouring from hearts so full
From the comfort of the witnessing

–Frances Denise

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A PRAYER FOR PIOUS MEN

For Thine is this body made
The kingdom which houses
The power of my verdant heart
And the glory is that it will love
Forever and ever despite all the fear
Wrapped in words by feet of clay men

–Blair Correll

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YOUTH

i am the ghost that haunts
main street at foot speed –
i pass by the school, run
between all three
churches that line the length
of the stretch – they said
go to god for god knows best –

but the book was a prop
and the rules were a game – to play
for the team, they made you change –

strip down to bare skin
in a room full of boys
who grabbed you and shoved you
and said don’t make noise!
and blamed you for running
all the way home
when you were the one
with nowhere to go

but into the trap
they set just for you –
they called it the path
for promising youth.

how dare you deviate?
how dare you attempt
to stray from the way
and jump the great fence

we built to protect you
from satan himself –

primeval architect
erecting hell!

we were both right to run
for the haven of hills.
they’ll come hunt us down
but they won’t clock the kill –

for we’re ghosts in the garden
where gates remain closed:

a portal falls open
for the lover who knows.

–Cheyanne Leonardo, from The Book of Abstractions

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THE FRAGILE PEACE

There are nights when the cold feels endless,
and love is only the echo of breath
against a window that fogs but never freezes.

We gather what warmth we can—
a thick blanket, a steaming cup, a name spoken softly—
and tell ourselves this, here, now,
is what belonging feels like.

It’s not forever. It doesn’t have to be.
Even a brief fire can teach a heart
how to remember light.

Maybe that’s what love is—
not the promise of never being alone,
but the courage to stay soft
while the wind still claws at the edges.

So we sit beside one another,
hands near but not touching,
each carrying a flame small enough to share,
and bright enough to survive the night.

–Joshua Walker, The Last Bard

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FRONT ROW AT THE WITCH BURNING

Love is a thing
A thing to die for
A thing to live for
Different is the thing
The thing we hate

Clutching the cross around
Their necks are red and rare meat
It is bloody beneath the crown of death
Comes for us all even for those in the front
Rowing their bodies towards eternity
Is ever lasting life a prize
To be one with such a god
All mighty and weak children fall
On their knees, praying to be spared
The sickle reaps all we have sown
Pink triangles like the fool’s cheeks painted
Handkerchiefs for the stench not tears
Her up inside knowing what love really is
No one listening, only hearing the screams

–Blair Correll

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THE NEIGHBORS