Mary Has a Son!


Photo: Creative Commons 
Text: Kristen Mastromarchi

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Boon of Wrinkles

Image
The Boon of Wrinkles Those crinkles under the eye that mean movement, the creases of my cheek almost matching a semi-circle departing from the edge of my mouth travelling into the caverns of my nose and down the other side...these are the markers of time that I'm so excited to see because they mean momentum: they mean change. You have no idea how hard I've worked to get here–to regain lines of feeling. It has taken four years to see my face almost even; that instead of strange tingling pins and needles I sense cool fingertips touching my chin. My eye still trembles under the force of keeping my cheek taut, like my legs in some yoga positions. I am more proud of my face than my legs, however. In yoga stretching and softening, softening and stretching leads to less shaking in a fairly short time with regular practice. Physical therapy, on the other hand, means coaxing muscles which are dormant under sleeping nerves into action. When you can't sense your muscles, it's an i...
Read more

Storm Emilia

Image
Storm Emilia  A great big ball of wind was rolling down the pavement toward me. I staggered under its might. The gale was blasting against me and anyone challenging it. I bent under its force with my head as low as it could go. I tried charging it, but it knocked my breath from me. I was gasping and couldn't take it anymore. I realized my eyes were closed and I forced them open into slits, searching for cover. Two men–one in a pumpkin orange vest that was clearly visible–had taken refuge in a covered alcove to the left. I battled the wind one step at a time until I joined them. I filled my lungs and recharged. Another young women who had been just a few feet behind me stepped off the same course to wait with us. The men stayed content in the background while us women put our heads or hands out at intervals to see if the wind's fury had been placated. At a certain point, the other woman and I both decided to brave the wind even though it was still blowing. We looked at each othe...
Read more

Vulnerable, Yet Hard

Image
Vulnerable, Yet Hard There he was: toothless with a grubby yet heavy duty mountaineering backpack      by his side, like always. Yes, I am aware that this description reigns in contradictions, but that's my impression of him–vulnerable yet hard. I don't know how I knew he was toothless. Maybe it was the hallows of his cheeks. They were haloed by a camouflage hat atop a mop of silver hair. His skin was a  wrinkled reflection of his clothes–a topography of time, weather, and living. I assumed he slept there, on the ledge under the display window of a store no longer there. Swirls of gray left  the windows on one side to interpretation. The other was locked under a rolling shutter, shutting out passers-by from  what was inside. The man's eyes–when I dared to meet them–were pinched with pain and defensiveness. I wonder how long he had lived on the street to make them so acute. I see him on my way to Spanish class twice a week, but today I took the boardwalk the...
Read more