2014 Writing Contest Winners

Josephine Lives!
Finding gold, if you're not careful, changes a person for the worse.

Another World
A volunteer from Virginia experiences the disturbing reality of life on the border.

The Gift Comes Full Circle
Sometimes when you cast your bread upon the waters, you don't have to wait long.

Angel Loop September
This year's best poem

The St. Ignatius Day Parade
When you need your very own saint, sometimes you have to improvise.

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About the cover

contest   Our annual contest always receives plenty of poetry entries, despite our oft-repeated caution that poetry — though it looks easy — is actually the hardest, least-forgiving form of writing. This winning entry shows the precision of language and vision that sets fine poetry apart


Angel Loop September

by Beate Sigriddaughter


In Canto 30 of Paradise, Dante

mentions the laughter of grass.

I am almost there now. Running

on Angel Loop, I rub shoulders

with tall mountain marigold

and goldeneye, a festival

of yellow, some blue

trumpet shapes and a few red ones.

My favorite spot is a stretch of bald rock

just before all the yellow. Yesterday

I tickled grass. I wanted to

hear its laughter. I think it was just crickets

rubbing their wings in the wind. I think

how I will likely never understand

why we should need darkness when

we yearn and strive for light. I understand

the concept of duality. Only my heart

so obstinately wishes to believe

pure light is possible. Meanwhile

a lizard dives face first under

the nearest rock ledge as I contemplate

scorpions and roses. I wish

these liquid lizards could trust me.

But how would they know love?

To them I am merely one

of the shadows of darkness. Still

I want to belong to light, to laughter,

to lizards believing in love. Today

grass tickled me. There are asters too

now, their yellow center full of summer

scent and whispering goodbye.





Beate Sigriddaughter is the author of Beauty Sleeping, a new novel
about an artist's journey through the often daunting landscapes of
self-doubt and disillusionment. She lives and writes
and sometimes dances in Silver City.



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