Photography: Generational Woods

Mom said she wanted witchy photos in the woods. She wanted to dance in the moonlight and howl. She wanted pointy hats and dark makeup. She wanted her vision of us to be captured forever.

What she didn’t say is generational pain lives in our bones and she wants us to be free. She didn’t say mortality knocks and time moves oh so quickly. She didn’t say let’s be stronger, my dearies, and stop letting others control our happiness. She didn’t have to.

Mom said she wanted witchy photos in the woods. I gave them to her, minus the hats.

This is for you Mom, the one who gives and loves so big, who taught me to be strong, and who carries so much and still laughs. I hope you like the photos and know how much you are loved.

“You’re breaking generational curses. That’s why this doesn’t come easy for you. You’re who your bloodline has been waiting for.” —unknown



  • These photos are of my mom, my daughter, and me. All photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW, except the last one and it’s a screenshot from a small video I took on my iPhone 13. My talented daughter took the photos I’m in.

Poetry: Heavy and light

7/30

My body feels heavy
Carrying ancient ancestral groves
Balanced upon my crown
Rooted within acrid soil.

My body feels heavy
Thickly bound bloody strings
Tautly held wounded anger
Attached within my chest.

My body wants light
Clear-cut forests laid bare
Tiny seedlings taking hold
Reaching out both directions.

My body wants light
Sharp scissors slice free
Snapping bright red strands
Allowing one liberated breath.


This ekphrastic poem was inspired by the sculpture above titled “Ancestor 1” by Aisha Harrison. It’s currently on display at the Crocker Art Museum.

More short poems:
1/30: not my cat
2/30: comfort
3/30: ache
4/30: remember
5/30: graduation
6/30: big love