Star Light Magic – A Poem

This poem is for Sharon who is wonderous!

You are made of stars.

There is a music that sings

every time you enter a room.

I’ve come to think of it

as the music stars make

when they are given

an earthly form.

You are made of light.

There is a brilliance that shines

every time you smile.

I’ve come to think of it

as actual magic that

not many people

can preform.

You are made of magic.

There is a light that shines

every time you laugh.

I’ve come to think of it

as a spell so powerful

that it needs no words.

We are blessed to know you,

to call you friend and family.

You have given us so much joy

through the act of knowing you.

You are a star given shape,

capable of actual magic

and creating light in the darkness.

You are all of this and more

and I know that my life,

as well as the lives of others,

are made brighter because of

you.

The Keys to Light – A Poem

  • This poem is for Bev. Happy Birthday!

The light that you carry

burns so brightly.

Being near you,

our skin is bathed in gold

and we can feel its warmth.

However, we are not in normal times.

Now, as we remain apart,

I recall what you taught me:

“When I love someone, I tell them.”

That is a lesson that I have held on to,

one that I recall again and again

during this time that the world grieves.

When I think of the words

that you taught me,

I can picture you clearly in my mind

and I can feel warmth glow within me.

You have made a difference in the world

and within my heart.

You have given me

what I needed in order

to open my heart wide.

You have given me

the keys to light and love

and though they have no physical form,

I carry them within me.

Every time I tell someone

that I love them,

magic is born anew.

You have shown me

how to create magic of my own.

I am forever thankful

and I wanted you to know

I love you.

A Polaroid Forest – A Poem

My Husband and I on our Wedding Day having our first dance.

There are days

where I am lost

within myself.

I find my path blocked

by a grove of trees

that surround me.

There doesn’t seem to be

any way past them,

though I can see the sun

as it peeks through.

There is a path

underneath my feet.

Turning away from the trees,

I follow that path.

It is made out of a multitude of things,

like broken glass,

crumpled paper that is covered in writing,

a rainbow of lost pens,

or random trinkets and ticket stubs.

I look up from the path

and notice that there are people

that I’ve left behind.

They linger within me still,

or the mark they left on me does.

I can also see versions of me,

everyone that I’ve been,

or tried to be.

These stand like shadowy scarecrows,

neither real or unreal.

Further still,

I can see the mountains that I know so well.

As I approach them,

they start to shrink,

for I’ve scaled them before,

so many times,

that I know every nook and cranny,

every hole that I’ve had to cling to

for temporary safety.

I put the small pebble in my pocket

for this path and the mountain

are part of the same path.

It feels heavy and I look for something

to help make it lighter.

I bend down and pick up one piece of glass,

a small piece that looks

like a piece of eggshell from a robin’s nest.

It reminds me of how I broke free,

how I was able to break through.

The piece is shaped like a feather.

I put this in my pocket, too.

Further down the path,

I come upon another small grove,

but these trees are different.

They aren’t covered in dark leaves

that whisper lies and half truths to me.

Though their branches seem bare at first,

I notice that hanging within them

are polaroid photos

of everyone that I love.

The photos contain moments

that I had with them,

ones that brought me joy.

The joyful moments are hidden here,

away from the dark forest

that surrounds me.

That is so that when I go back along the path,

towards the trees that

wish to keep me here,

I will be able to carry light back with me

that will combat the dark.

Looking at the photos,

I pluck one of my most cherished photos.

It is a photo taken at my happiest moment.

I clutch it to my chest and slide it into my pocket.

the feelings from that moment

fill me full of light.

I can feel the three charms against the darkness

fluttering above my heart,

excited for their journey

as I walked towards the trees

and follow the path

as it brings me back to myself.

I follow the path,

knowing that I am no longer

lost.

Thin Places – In Paperback and Audio!

How awesome is this?

Thin Places: Ottawan Anthology is available in paperback! It contains my short story Finders Keepers. I’m super thrilled to be able to hold the paperback book! It’s always a thrill to actually hold my work.

You can get your copies of the book here:

Ebook Edition

Print Edition

What’s even cooler than getting your own copy? Listening to the story in audio! Publisher Michel Weatherall has been having local talent read out the stories in the collection. Finders Keepers is read by the super talented Paul Atkinson. He really captures the feeling of the story.

He does an amazing job of capturing the urgency and the feeling of the story.

You can listen to the audio version of Finders Keepers here:

So just click play, sit back and let yourself be taken to another world.

Renaissance Virtual Conference – Fall Edition!

I’m so excited!

I’ll be taking part in the Renaissance Press Fall Virtual Conference! How awesome is that? You can learn more about it here: https://pressesrenaissancepress.ca/events/renaissance-virtual-conference/full-program-and-registration/

I took part in the previous virtual conference and I couldn’t be happier to be taking part in the Fall one! Check it out, I’m in the following panels:

Saturday October 24 2020

10 AM- 11 AM EDT: Dystopian and Utopian fiction

Do Utopian and Dystopian fiction stories continue to be relevant in the face of current events? Are these categories still appropriate and of interest? How do they relate to post-apocalyptic stories, pandemic fiction, hope punk, grim/dark?

Stephen Graham King, Jamieson Wolf, John Haas, Jack Briglio, Dominic Bercier, Elizabeth Hirst (m)

1 PM – 2 PM EDT: Ableist, me? That’s cr*zy!

Ableist language and narratives are incredibly pervasive. This panel explores how even disabled, Deaf, neurodiverse authors have to unlearn ableist narratives that influence the everyday terms we use.

Cait Gordon (m), Dianna Gunn, Jennifer Lee Rossman, Jamieson Wolf, Madona Skaff-Koren

Sunday October 25 2020

11:30 AM – 12 30 PM Family of choice.

How have chosen family narratives evolved over the past few years? What remains to be done in terms of representation, and what has been done well (or less well)? Why are chosen family narratives still relevant and important?

Su J Sokol, Angela Misri (m), Avi Silver, Nathan Caro Fréchette, Jamieson Wolf

Make sure to register so you can attend! And the best news of all? It’s all free! I know, right? Register here and learn all about the panels that are being offered!

See you there!

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