Snow runoff flows downHill from my driveway to theCow pasture. I standIn the middle and watch winterWash away around my shoes.

The Beige Woman, a color poem, is Adriana Philips' personal tale of living as a mixed-race woman. Can you love yourself in your own skin?

Paintook up residencewithout permissionstealing everythingit came in contactwith including myDreams. Lostin despair’s dark lairembers spark to flamefear whispers liesinto both my earsstirring latent fearsFury. Timein kaleidoscopic hazeneurologic degradationinterlocked nerves sparkingtriggering spastic legs intoSpasm. Firetormenting burning paininvading each cellas inflammationseizes the knees firststealing my balanceAgain. Walkerwheels keep me movingwhile fatigue assaultstwin torturers nowtraumatizing losscruel limits resetting ...

I am the definition of insanity and a god of abandoned dreams. Glory, I’ve left behind. I extend my hands and roll my stone up mountains of good intentions and career paths. I have yet to reach the top of any of them. I’m finished. I fall to my knees and say, “I give up.” ...

The year of twenty twenty-one tested me as no other year has in a long time. It started with hope and positive thoughts but quickly slammed my family and me into a never-ending treadmill of trouble. You might think this is an article about my problems; in a way, it is, but it is more ...

Life is full of ups, downs, ins, outs, and sometimes sideways events. When life is scary, it makes grief and loss more up and in your face. “I don’t want to do this without my person, and this is all so unfair,” runs through the brain on repeat. At these times, be present to love ...

I walked through blackness lately. Holding out my arms, forever searching for hope, only to realize that hope is not solid but as free as the air. It shows itself through a crack in the dark—a glow that grows when worry and doubt combine. You cannot have hope alone but in combination with adversity. As ...

Flames,of orange and redflicker, twist, dip, and bow ina mysteriouscounterpoint dancetiptoeing on edge asmusic orchestratesin staccato fashioncrackles, pops, and snapspunctuate the ancient dancemesmerizing human eyes. Flames,reflected uponcorneal lenses refractfirestorm insideshattered heartsbearing deeply seared scarsborn by the betrayedtrust in a million sparkstrauma blames and shamescountered by blazing lighthope extinguishes despair. Photo by Shoeb Khatib on Unsplash

But when Spring begins, the days start to get longer, and the world begins to thaw. This is the true turning point for me. Both plants and people are coming out of hibernation. We’re all waking up and ready to clean out Winter’s leftovers and replace them with hope.

Spring is around the cornerPretty soonThe glistening snowWill be replaceWith blooming flowers The trees will loseTheir darknessAnd come aliveAgain withNew misty green leavesAnd birds singingAlong with the wind The chilly, frosty airWill turn to a sweet, warm breezeAnd we can say goodbye to theHeavy coats, boots, and mittens Let our hair blow in the wind,Wear ...