Here flows two poems offered by Isabel Gates; the first she herself wrote, the second is a poem she finds highly inspiring.

A Crack in My Resolve

My life has been so quiet
I thought that meant I was
Finished.

I used to think that sinking into good works
Carved meaning into the space I was taking up
But how do I find a reason to smile
When the world is the color of bruises
And the old lady in my mirror
Is so much more wrinkled
And so much more alone.

At the park today,
I found myself in a cascade of bubbles
I froze, searching for a way through
I don’t like getting sticky
Bubbles popped around me
Like tiny chicks asking out of their eggshells

Next to me,
A 4-year-old was giggling,
Her smile as wide as a sunrise
While her arms danced a tango in the air
Don’t just stand there, she scolded, Pop them with me!

I recognized that voice
“I’ll pass. You go ahead.”
Her eyes sparked. C’mon, she insisted
like a bell chiming churchgoers into a church.

“It’s hard to sit inside joy these days,”
I explained, holding my wounds.

She reached for my hand
When you have monsters under your bed,
You have to ROAR!
Remember?!!
Another trail of giggles.

I had forgotten that my four-year-old self
Once named herself Valente
Because she found out it meant Brave One
She was a small hero
Staying true to herself
Despite the grumpy old world

Since there was clearly no use arguing
I put down my bags
And dropped my frown
And as we spun around popping bubbles together
I let myself squeal
For the first time in years

Not finished at all.

Isabel Branchflower Gates
August, 2026

Maybe You Are Not Empty
Maybe you are not empty.
Maybe the hollow you are holding isn’t a wound
            but the very chamber where your one wild note
is learning how to build an echo.


Maybe you are being held between                                        the Mystery that lets you rest                                                    and the Mercy that lets you rise.

Maybe you are perched on the edge of yourself,
              held by something you cannot yet name,
                  learning the radical, trembling truth.                                 
 that you are allowed to belong
before you become anything else.
I am perched, not parched.
Say it like a prayer until your bones believe it’s true
Matt Moberg

SICA Call to Memorial Tribute Article

Sadly, our beloved Subud Sister, Mary Kimsey, along with her daughter Rowan, and granddaughter Stella, died three weeks ago. SICA would like to honor the light and love emanating from their lives by inviting our readers to send any memories, images, poetry, or photos for our upcoming Kimsey Memorial Tribute Article. There will also be a Memorial Celebration at the Portland Subud House on Saturday, September 26th.
Please send your writings and photos to fteeters@outlook.com.