art ~ spirit ~ transformation
e*lix*ir

e*lix*ir   #16
Twin Birthdays 2023
Poetry
 

TABLE OF CONTENTS


Editorial

The Art of a Loving Correspondence

The Writing Life

Trust in Poetry by Tami Haaland

Features

The Beautiful Foolishness of Things, A collaborative work by poet Sandra Lynn Hutchison, composer Margaret Henderson, and painter Inger Gregory
Writing Music for The Beautiful Foolishness of Things, by Margaret Henderson

Poetry

Heather Anne Hutchison
Victor Kulkosky
Linette Kuy

Essays

The Art of Losing by Victor Kulkosky
Yearning for Water: The Story of a Traveling Quilt by Bradford Miller

Personal Reflections on Bahá’í Texts

Fire and Paradise by James Andrews

Letters

Dreaming of a Better Iran: A Letter to Our Fellow Citizens by Eight Bahá’í Students

Translations

“I Want to Walk With You” translated by Bashir Sayyah

Comics

Ruhi & Riaz by Eira

Voices of Iran

Keeping the Eternal Garden by Maryam Afzal and Saam Mozafari
Mrs. Mansouri’s Mission by Shahrzad Mohebbi
Nothing but the Sanctity of the Desert by Nazgol Adyani
Five Days by Bahar Rohani

Interviews

Art and the Creative Process: An Interview with Hooper C. Dunbar by Nancy Lee Harper
An Interview with Erfan Hosseini, Santur Player by Mehrsa Mastoori

Arts

Paintings by Hooper C. Dunbar

State of the Art

Books for Children by Allison Grover Khoury

Looking Back on Books

Forty-eight Fragments by Imelda Maguire
The Divine Melody: Song of the Mystic Dove by Lorraine Hétu Manifold
Walking to Martha’s Vineyard by Franz Wright
Soul of the Maine House by Bradford Miller

Films

‘Abdu’l-Bahá in France by Perry Productions


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Ann Sheppard

HEATHER ANNE HUTCHISON

My Body a Means

My body simply a means
to go from here to there,
Six decades on
and I am
a broken temple
with a beating heart.
I go from room to room
my body a shining light,
My body my house,
My heart my soul.


Weather Forecast

Rain outside
Chemo inside
Me in the middle,
hoping,
yes, praying
to feel the earth again
beneath my feet
out in the garden
wind in the trees
caressing my face

Alive again.


A Small Hope

There is nothing to raise me up
from the ashes
from where I came,
No glory in the after either.

Still inside
something small
a light
shines,
a small hope
lifts me up
out from the crushing
fear

I keep trying,
keep breathing,
Why is it so hard
to die?


Tubes

All my life
I feared this place,
this space
where nothing grows.

How long have I lain
in this bed,
tubes growing out of me?
How long have I been
hooked up to this pole?

People come and go,
They are from there
and everywhere,
While I am here,
No place to go
but up or out,

Through the door
or on wings.


Bio:   Heather Anne Hutchison grew up in Toronto and holds a B.A. (University of Toronto) and an M.A. (University of Saskatchewan) in sociology, and a law degree from York University’s Osgoode Hall. For several decades, she has drawn upon her skills as a lawyer and her experience as a community activist to advocate for the inclusion of those with intellectual challenges and other kinds of disabilities. Since she retired, she has had more time to nurture her love of literature, both as a reader and a writer. She has written poetry all her life, but this is her first publication.