Andrea Skyberg

The house of growth can be the house of decay when it’s been abandoned to neglect and thoughtlessness But the earth will cradle it and soothe it eventually swallow it

I live in a house of women who all move in bodies of trauma and creation We’re walking paradoxes of the beginning and the end the destroyed and created the

We carried the weight as a reminder…
Birthing our collective pain into each generation.

I could hear it
the sound of a heartbeat
knocking against ribs
a rustling
a knocking
A voice.

Yesterday was Now and Wished it was Future, but Now is Now and Wishes it Were Yesterday

The problem with art
Is that it’s as easy as breathing
and as cumbersome as death
and it lives in the space in between
Only the brave come to play…

There will be many who crave
what you have to say
Like an addiction
like a sweet, savory
piece of truth

I remember having a deep ache
Since I was little
for a story
that told me of my matriarchs
the greatest of grandmas
the holder of the seeds

She painted me back to life
Under the sky of forever
And when she left, she told others of me
And they visited with reverence and peace
And I was not alone
And I was everything.

The little bodies that used to live inside of mine
now walk without my padding
little hearts outside of their home…

Maybe it’s best not to hide
from it
Maybe that’s the point of fear
The point of feeling
unsteady
Instead what if I bent down
let it sniff my hand
and warmed to it

During this time while we’ve been ‘Safer at Home,’ my oldest daughter Sky Greer and I have been collaborating on a bunch of stuff—music, writing, art. This week she illustrated