art ~ spirit ~ transformation

e*lix*ir   #2
spring 2016



  • Art at the Intersection of the Worlds

  • Poetry

  • Michael Fitzgerald
  • YoungIn Doe (in English and Korean)
  • Arlette George

  • Fiction

  • The Munich Girl
    by Phyllis Ring

  • Memoir

  • Birds
    by Holiday Reinhorn

  • Writing Life

  • Notes on the Poetic Process
    by Michael Fitzgerald

  • Essays

  • The Art of Ecstasy in the Poetry of Stanley Kunitz
    by Sandra Lynn Hutchison

  • Looking Back on Books

  • Fiction: Big Cats
    by Holiday Reinhorn
  • Nonfiction: Chinese Brushstrokes
    by Sandra Lynn Hutchison

  • Art

  • Paintings
    by Jean Reece
  • Photographs
    by Bev Rennie

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    Photo by Bev Rennie


    My Sister

    I waited for this rain to fall,
    And as it fell I waited again.
    Heaven kept turning,
    And the Milky Way, shining through the trees,
    threw a star and a magnet straight at me.
    I waited.
    It landed.
    And I fell upon my back laughing.
    I had looked at myself reaching up to the stars,
    And found the universe falling into my lap.

    One Day

    A woman eats sushi one day,
    With a man, she hardly knows.
    She's seen him before, in a dream long ago.
    He points to an invisible knot in her heart,
    Calls it guilt — knotted caring.
    They walk up a steep hill,
    She sneezes,
    He buys a tub of chocolate ice-cream.
    He eats the whole lot
    And goes home.
    A woman is eating sushi with a man she knows,
    She's seen him before but not sure where.
    He sees her heart tied in an invisible knot,
    The birds keep singing till dawn.
    He walks into a tunnel,
    She sinks into a dive reflex.
    He buys a fine suit, puts it on
    And goes home.
    He tells her a story about herself —
    She begins to float,
    Not like an eagle swooping down on prey,
    But like the silk that breathes over books and tables,
    resting, motionless, touched but unchanged.
    That is the air, the soul moving
    And I am she.

    Radical River

    This is not a war —
    It’s a river.
    And it’s flowing
    through this house,
    Moisture seeping
    Into these walls —
    We’ll either survive it,
    Or find a secret passage
    Where we’ll swim away
    And set up camp
    On higher ground.

    It is a dangerous adventure —
    Telling the truth,
    Far harder than a war.

    Far harder than striving,
    Living well,
    Riding out
    angry weather.

    So sit still,
    Stay alert.
    When you find the river
    bare your feet,
    walk its banks,

    Submerge yourself.

    Arlette George
    Artist Statement:   The impulse to write poetry often comes from the emotions I feel in situations that have no resolution. For me, the process and the craft of poetry is part of spiritual work, an act of will, often attended by a great reluctance, though at times a feeling of ease also emerges, and, like a burning candle, my lower self begins to recognise what’s required of it in order to relinquish those hopes, dreams, and desires that may not be integral to God’s Will for me. I am, in truth, a beginner and yet I hope. My dream is to describe my soul’s journey as it falls in love with the path set out for it by the Creator. My purpose in writing poetry is to draw the reader closer to his or her own hope and refuge in the mighty Faith of Bahá’u’lláh, and to generate within myself the courage to live my faith more fully guided by the precision associated with spiritual insight.
    Bio:   Arlette George has worked in London as a choreographer and director. She has been involved in various projects in Iceland and Shetland. When she lived in Hackney and Islington, her primary focus was neighbourhood transformation. She now lives with her family in a village on the west coast of Scotland.