Share This Post

Art and Poetry / Featured News



Unfolding an old note from my mother

inked on a scrap, hurriedly yet purposeful

I trace over every line like canals in the paper

The curves of my letters are starting to look like hers

just like the curves of my hips

Genetics, maybe

or the inheritance of

the weight of the words that weren’t ours to bear




Author: Samantha Martin
Author Bio: Samantha is a connector of words and thoughts and people, an instructor of yoga, student of the universe, tarot reader, affirmation architect, chronic wanderer, cancer survivor, dog mom, fanny pack enthusiast, deep belly laugher and tree appreciator. You can find her work, her observations and her musings at or on Instagram @goodkarmacleveland.
Link to social media or website:

Share This Post

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

Lost Password


Share This