Below is the final Part 23 of 23 monthly installments for Visitant. ◄◄ Read the prologue / introduction: Meet Agnes Person ◄ Read the previous installment | Cold Turkey Twin Fins Silver Supper, a singles prayer group, calls to remind Agnes about the Advent prayer list, but no person, her message machine answers in Bea’s voice, is […]Read more "Twin Fins"
This predicament is not new. The mender is one of many. They aren’t allowed to burn her, at least, though they can send her to a room for ninety months. Officials of the Spanish Inquisition roasted them alive. If the witch was lactating, her breasts exploded when the fire grew high. Leni Zumas, RED CLOCKS, […]Read more "Red Clocks: An Interview with Leni Zumas"
You gave us joy for a little over a month. A tentative joy for me. From the beginning I felt something was wrong. I was reluctant to tell anyone about you. Then there was my sickness. Exponentially worse than with your brother. I thought I might be having twins. Or dying. Around a week or […]Read more "A Different Kind of Birth Story"
What I carry inside is a void. It is nothing. The vibrancy of creation, the possibility is absent. There is no sorrow. There is no joy. Nothing. The chasm threatens to absorb me. The death I carry within is incompatible with my life force. Slowly draining. I am not here, nor there. I am not […]Read more "I Am Death"
“You have a mother’s hands,” My husband said to me when our son was a few weeks old. I was holding a whimpering newborn, cooing and shushing in his ear, while gently stroking his back in a clockwise motion. “Do I?” I smiled, amused that I was now a mother. With mom hands. When do […]Read more "Mother Hands"
I’ve been worried about the erosion of reproductive rights. I’ve imagined these all leading to a dystopian hell where women are arrested for miscarriages and families facing infertility are denied the procedures that would allow them to bear children. Silly, naive me. I hadn’t noticed this has already come to pass and is much worse […]Read more "A Culture of Life Imagined"
Cassia collages scenes from motherhood in which how one frames and is framed by others is a crucial and defining element.Read more "An Exercise in Framing"
The thick mahogany desk was covered with a thick sheet of plastic. It was as if the doctor wanted to protect the surface of this desk – probably a reproduction, definitely not an antique. The plastic had little white plastic snaps that attached to each corner, like a Tupperware container. I stared at the […]Read more "We Pick Our Battles"
“So what does it feel like?” Nick asks me this from behind his computer. He’s wincing, I suppose in solidarity, but it feels more like pity. “It’s like when you sprain your ankle, or jam your finger,” I say, sighing, knowing that there is really no good way to explain it to him. “Like […]Read more "In Between Hope"
I’ve become intimately in tune with my body over the years, due to my ongoing struggle with health issues. I’ve learned to listen to it when it needs nourishment, when it needs me to lay off the nachos and beer. I’ve learned to identify sources of pain and meditate on the mental issue causing that […]Read more "A Mother’s Love"