by Patheresa Wells
Help the Emerald create more “ripples and sparks” throughout the community! I’m the publisher’s mother and an Emerald founding board member. I’ve lived in Seattle all my life. Over most of those 77 years, the brilliance, diversity, and beauty of our community lacked a constant spotlight — that was until the Emerald came along. I’ve seen my son and the Emerald team sacrifice sleep, health care, self-care, and better salaries elsewhere to keep the Emerald shining a light on our community. I’d never ask anyone to make that kind of sacrifice, but I do ask to do what you can today to support the Emerald as a Rainmaker, or sustaining donor, during their 8th anniversary campaign, Ripples & Sparks at Home, April 20–28. Become a Rainmaker today by choosing the “recurring donor” option on the donation page!
—Cynthia “Mama” Green, The Publisher’s Mama & Rainmaker
This poem was originally published in the Arcturus Literary Journal and is reprinted here by permission of the author.
There ain’t nothing sweet smelling or pleasing to the palate here.
This poem is all that is discarded,
tossed aside,
Forgotten.
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