*ON GRIEF AND GHOSTS*
written 24/11/2021

In this clan
it is the Women
left standing.

Our hearts forced
open, stretched
and stengthened
to make room
for it all.

To bear it all —
the weight of
this world;
the love for
the Earth.

Mothers.
Daughters.

Death and
birth.

Biting back
both tears
and laughter.

Our shoulders,
bones petite,
squared against
the oncoming blaze.
One step forward
repeat.

Bearing children
and pain.
Time and again.

And the men
trail behind.

Ghosts and wraiths.

In this clan
it is the Women

And I wonder
when the Universe
will cease to be
so demanding.

|| alanna joanne

*REAL GIRL SH!T on YOUTUBE*

In February 2021 I started a YouTube channel as yet another creative outlet. One more pandemic project, if you will. A place for creativity and conversation. Come hang out!

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*KNITTING NEIGHBOURHOODS*

Launched in October 2020, Knitting Neighbourhoods is a community-based initiative focused on engaging people during dark times, providing creative projects with purpose to support our most vulnerable. Knitting neighbourhoods, one ball of yarn at a time 🧶

Follow @knittingneighbourhoods for the latest updates.

www.knittingneighbourhoods.ca

*PURPLE MOONS*

Two moons
same phase —
waxing gibbous
in a haze.

Shrouded.

Purple skies.
Bruised clouds.
Dark trees.

What do you
mean?

Side by side
does the Wolf
howl, or is it
me?

Skipping beats
or hearts
under the sky
in twilight.

A light,
a Dream.

Shrouded.

Two moons,
same phase.

|| alanna joanne

*SKELETON CREWS*

There is a morbid freedom
in embracing this new reality.
A sense of relief,
in settling into chaos.
It's delicious, though
not pretty, to see
the world descend
into an inevitable fate.

Humanity has gone dark,
and the world mad.
The air has grown toxic,
but the Earth she thrives.
Flora blooms, water clears,
fauna rolls gleefully
in peaceful fields.

And so we pause.
And we honour silence.

Skeleton crews
in Spring.

|| alanna joanne

FEATHERS IN THE GARDEN, VOL. I
A book of poetry by Alanna Joanne

1st Edition
SOLD OUT

*OCTOBER RAIN*

October rain showering me
with visions of a time before.

Candy coloured reflections in
deep, inky pools.

I loved you once, when the world
looked like this.

When the scent of Fall was
falling in loved.

And softly drifting leaves,
your fingertips.

Tentative and changing.

|| alanna joanne

There are moments
when I don't know
if what I need is
plants or planets
— deep space
or green space.
Either way,
an escape.
From the chaos
of this concrete
jungle.

If there must be
dust, then let it
sparkle and float
between the stars
and stigmas.

|| alanna joanne

*BODY LANGUAGE*

What do we do
when language isn't
enough?
When thoughts
become frozen,
and emotions
suffer motionless.

What do we do
when bodies scream
soundlessly?
When limbs
and lips ache.

Can't you hear
my whispers?
Why can't you?

What do we do
with these empty
spaces?
When they're not
empty at all.
I'd drown amongst
all the misunderstandings.

What do we do
when these human
forms fail
to express?
And I've forgotten
to tell my story.

|| alanna joanne

*OUT OF ORBIT*

I don't care for holding the world
anymore; this cold and
hardened sphere.

For to hold it up, to hold
it dear,
has burned our souls.
And hardened hearts
with fear.

The colour of jade.
The colour of soot.
Anger poisons our blood
from head,
to foot.

And what is there to show for it?
From holding this globe
up in helpless orbit.

Would gravity pull
it down?
Would the antithesis
pull it away?
I no longer care
for its awful weight.

I don't care for holding the world
anymore; this cold and
hardened sphere.

|| alanna joanne

*FROM BEYOND*

Remnants of the dead
permeate my view as I
finally wake from this centuries-slumber.

Fallen, blackened trees
and sterile Earth.

Skeletons of corporations-past.
Their steel bones now dull
and rusted.

Their hearts too.

And the sky is on fire.

|| alanna joanne

*IN THE RAW*

Remember when "faux"
was in fashion?
—— see faux fur
and faux pas.

Before truth
was our passion;
to see it return
and the lies withdrawn.

Because now "to know"
has been challenged
—— in our homes
and in our laws.

With these foes
leaning forward
reality broken
in their jaws.

And so "to be"
becomes pas sûr:
Uncertainty,
in the raw.

But just like sugar
we may be burned, though not broken.
Hear the people's outcry:
"Faugh!"

|| alanna joanne

*VAMPIRES*

They ate our sunshine
before turning with ravenous eyes
and watering mouths
towards our spirits.

Vampires feeding on light and souls,
a blood lust unprecedented.

Was it enough to keep them satisfied?
Was it enough to keep them alive?

And what were we to do,
plunged into darkness after darkness?

To run and hide was futile.
Fugitives as we were, shackled
to these festering human shells.

What did freedom look like?
What shape would our resistence take
with hatred seeping into the water,
flushing us out from the inside.

Oil spills and infiltration.
Lies and emotional warfare.

The air is growing toxic.

But can there be darkness, truly,
or soullessness
without the light.

Without us.

Perhaps our revolution is to live
rather than simply, complacently
exist.

|| alanna joanne