My Abuelita, The Healer

By Theresa Gaynord

There are medicinal virtues to homeopathic
treatments that capture the meaning of a
healing spirit lost in the intensity of dense
woods, greeted by the chaos of flats among
circular ends that honeycomb the cells of
sacred light.

 

Without hesitation the plains scroll among
the foliage and flowers as I start to see the
image of my abuelita come alive. Scarlet
mixtures in a handful of whites and greens
crowd the weaving of her basket, her abilities
revealed in the palms of her hands.

 

Pearl shells ground the pigment of her skin
shielded by the warmest of winds and the
patches of colors from butterfly wings. I sink
beneath the calluses of her softness, encased
in a cloud of rapture that lifts up my chin to
the beauty of nurturing and healing longing for

her heart, to touch mine.

 

 

Cherubs and Food for the Soul

By Theresa Gaynord

There’s abandonment in the night tonight. When fortunes

are spent and love is absorbed into the atmosphere in

an attempt to heal and engage. Cherubs are our little

helpers and like detached spirits of the dead they coat

our senses and feed our souls with discretion,

touching, silent, like the quizzical frown of a pallet

adjusting to coconut milk broth with tomatoes, cabbage,

galangal, lemongrass and cilantro. It may take us mere

mortals a few minutes to see daylight, but we savor in the

advantages of it when we do.

 

Theresa Gaynord likes to write about matters of self-inflection and personal experiences. She likes to write about matters of an out-of-body, out-of-mind state, as well as subjects of an idyllic, pagan nature and the occult. Theresa writes horror, as well as concrete gritty and realistic dramas. Theresa is said to be a witch and a poet, (within the horror writing community) and she has been published in a number of magazines throughout the years..