Mending and milking
The only time left to do anything at all is when
everything slows to a step
A reach, a slow dance
When we pool enough coins in our piggy banks to drive 7 hours north, south, east, wasting gas and skimping on food along the way
There, nestled in the safety of white houses, white curtains, even if they’re not all made of milk,
They still spill it …
Poem, in its entirety, is available in the printed version of the current issue.
Bio:
Elena-Cristina Feraru is a poet and intersubjective facilitator from Ontario. Her work centres on the development of open awareness and deep connectivity for creative expression. She’s currently completing her first full-length poetry collection and supporting the growth processes of seekers interested in bridging meditation, mindful movement, and dialogue practices.