The Loss of Rituals​

Issue 15

Honoring summer solstice
by honoring my ancestral rage.
I'm learning how to divine the pattern of rain sounds,
But the acid keeps erasing the symbols.
I can read the constellations in the sky
As well as the ones on my skin,
But the light pollution has turned the sky blank.
An orange, ominous haze.
I know how to navigate my way around this planet using the sun and shadows alone,
But a GPS in my pocket computer takes away the need to know how.
My cycle is perfectly synced with the moon's,
yet I'm encouraged to track it on an app
and soak it up with bleached cotton that leaks chemicals
into an organ that is so well designed, it cleans itself.
My feet long to be bare on the earth,
but I must wear shoes to avoid the trash,
the shards of glass,
the things that could hurt me that are already hurting the earth.
I want to know how to build fires for survival,
but committing arson is a crime in all fifty stolen states of land.
I think about my Native American heritage a lot,
and how 1/32nds of a fraction is barely enough to count.
I think about them and my Cherokee ancestor
that fell in love with a blonde, blue eyed German,
and think that may have been the beginning of the end,
and the end of everything. 

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HOLLY AMBER WEBB is the author of two self-published poetry books titled Am I the Villain? and From the River to the Sea: Poetry for a Free Palestine. Her poetry has been featured in Permanent Answer Poetry Society’s online 2025 magazine, and Starcrossed Anthology: Volume One, a collection published in 2023.

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