Writing

Black threads interlaced. 

Buttery seams–

The feel of dreams.

Baggy enough,

enough to be fitted.

Sprawled on the marley floor,

Each pulse of my heart 

tugs a string of my soul,

The pressure on your chest weakens as the craft gradually decelerates to a halt, and you find all the mass has been pulled out of you, leaving only your volume.

art is love and love pushes through.

A self-portrait painted by writerfromva, age 17, of Virginia, in response to the visual art challeng

A group of girls

in a circle in the shade

talk quietly in the world

their voices rising and falling

a stream of consciousness

pulling from their minds

memories of the day before.

A whistle

a ball

This issue of The Voice marks the completion of the first phase of The Tomorrow Project – with sincere congratulations to the many writers and artists who contributed a record 430 submissions to the project!