I have been a member of IWWG for the past thirty years, attended years of summer conferences with my four sisters and our mother and it was there that I honed my writer’s craft. Three of my poems appear in the IWWG 50th Year Anthology: Something Inside So Strong.
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Jubilee
Let this year of your Jubilee
which is not your Jubilee
be a year of joy for you, Jan Phillips.
May you rejoice with Sister friends who entered the convent with you.
May serenity gained on your Peace Journey proceed to replenish you.
May you glory in rainbow pride, affirmed by writing, Born to Be Gay.
May your activism & Living Kindness Foundation press forward.
May delight in children attending the African school you built progress.
May your creativity expressed in art and books return ten-fold.
May you find consolation in the IWWG writer community.
May your life remain open to transformation
so richly shared in books, songs & work.
This Julbilee Year requires no Catholic sacrament.
You need no priest’s blessing to make the water Holy.
You create your own spiritual practice.
You are Holy water, life sustainer, thirst quencher.
You are living water, in and of yourself.
Your life is a Jubilee, I only add a small blessing.
Jan Phillips, I sprinkle your head, your hands, your feet
with clean water taken from the tap,
as you did for me and students at Transformation Workshop.
May your mind, body and spirit be refreshed.
Your writer friends love you just as you are.
***
Ode to Dorothy Randall Gray
Big black beautiful Dorothy
with blonde dreadlocks
that twine in gray crone root
is an ocean worthy ship.
Teacher, poet and artist,
she sails into the classroom.
We dock, anchor and write
in her safe harbor.
She welcomes sisters and friends
into her open arms
with a wave, a smile
and a solid, warm belly hug.
A wabi-sabi mender of bits and pieces,
she taps ancestor wisdom.
Her whole body dances speaking,
she writes, makes art and music.
Students bring their smashed cups.
We play at the art table,
cut up pictures, collage, decoupage,
tap memories and write.
We select words, glue them on paper,
heal broken shards, fix pictures.
Our broken stories emerge whole,
strong and laced with gold.
***
Letter to Poet Marj Hahne: A Prose Poem
Thank you, Marj Hahne, for the poet and teacher you are. You gifted a class I was in with a dismemberment poem, then said, "Write a prose poem." I unearthed a forgotten story about a finger thief, formed with words strung on the frame you gave us. This hammock held my words, rocked my pain and dug it a resting place. A poem burned out of me. Its seed shattered a shell, heavy pieces emerged under a layer of years. I read my poem in class and you offered another gift- your tears. After class you said, "It’s a piece of coal." Taking my hand, you rubbed circles on my sleeve. "Like this," you said, "Polish it, polish it, polish it, that’s how to make a diamond." I started writing. Many poems later, dear Marj, I thank you for the poet and teacher you are.
***
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Date Published: July 1, 2026