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After (or Perhaps Between) the Storms
I hear a lot that there’s always a rainbow after the storm. That platitude is looking for and being open to joy and not toxic positivity unless we recognize some people do not survive the storm and some people are not situated to see the rainbow through no fault of their own.

My Saris Are in India
Seeing photos of my saris (which are now journeying with a friend in South India) brings memories of scents–incense and dust, burning ghee, dung and jasmine blossoms, and the feel of hot stones underneath my bare feet. There it is (evidently newly pressed) among the nagas–serpents, tendrils of myth and memory arising desires from our deepest [un]consciousness. Perhaps I will dream of such tonight.





