I never considered myself to be
a flower. I was always plain, a weed
in everyone else’s flowerpots,
a weakling, a sprout that never
quite received enough sun to
grow. People would tell me I was
wrong, to see myself how everyone
else did, but nothing changed.
I was a barren countryside,
a meadow scorched after
a wildfire, though everyone
around me was vibrant.
Then, out of the blue, I began
to notice the details. which
had seemed mundane. I started
to see the colors in myself,
and the sunlight began
to stream through my blood.
I never considered myself to be
a flower—but now I think I do.


By Jordan Prochnow

Coming Home

Because this is my truth: there is no shame in coming home. There is no defeat in experiencing the world out there and choosing to go back to the place you once were with a new set of eyes. Home is a place you earn.


By Sumi Lee
Denver Voice walking tour
Summer, 2016

Steering the Craft


He used to let me steer,
Every morning before he left for work the engine
would roar from the garage,
I sat in his lap as we navigated the neighborhood
The smell of the Italian leather and dirty gasoline.
When we pulled back into the garage my heart would sink.
He would kiss me goodbye and drive away.
This time I wasn’t steering.


By Sarah Harkness
Written during Art-i-Fax event on Colfax, July 2016