la louve à la lune ǀ the wolf to the moon
Original works of poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction and essays by A. M. Wilsonne
Inspired by Psalm 91 and Deuteronomy 1:29-31 I scramble up my Father's breast fingers buried in his feathered chest strokes of down engulf my arms and legs. I cling to Him, my Refuge, my Fortress, warm to rest. There nestled, though mostly shielded in the shadow of his valiant neck, misted sun rays reach... Continue Reading →
Hope To reach for hope To hold onto it sometimes it's like clutching an ice cube, or two But if I keep holding the ice-cold, tight in a warm grip, It will thaw. If I hold onto what will inevitably be-- just wait, wait: relief release God, give us the power to forgive, to thaw... Continue Reading →
When it doesn't work. Because we are different. In ways that are utter extremes. You wanted more of something I could not give. I wanted more of something you could not believe. A brief together. followed by. An indefinite separation. O. If I could have even just a bit of you. Every now and then.... Continue Reading →
Les hommes? Les hommes me blessent. Ils me blessent d'une douleur vive qui me pèsent le cœur d'un poids qui ne ressemble à aucun autre. comme je suis piquée juste à côté du fond du cœur par un couteau. Le sang coule Le liquide ne s'échappant pas de ma poitrine. Y'a de la pression qui... Continue Reading →
Some days, I feel more alive than others. Some days, I feel like the walking dead. Today, right now, life rushes through limbs to my brain, and I'm writing a poem of pain that's, for now, gone away. To get out of my head, even onto paper, to get out of my head and take in,... Continue Reading →
la louve à la lune ǀ the wolf to the moon 