A Reason to Listen is a grass-roots, Humboldt grown poetry collective
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Anne Fricke bio:

When Anne Fricke first came to the redwood forests and dramatic coastline of Northern California, after growing up in Southern Indiana, she knew she was home.  Her writing has carried her through the many faceted journeys of her life.  Her first poetry collection Susurrus: whispers behind this life will be released in October 2016.  She is seeking representation for her debut novel, The Orchard’s Descendant, a journey through life-altering challenges of the last century, weaving love, mystery and a touch of the paranormal along the way.  

The Orchard’s Descendant
​

​When Lyla abandons her former life to move to a century-old farmhouse in the rural hills of Northern California, she finds herself embroiled in a 70-year old tangled mystery of love and deceit. There’s the barn that Lyla can’t bring herself to go into, the door that eerily opens, the sound of a woman crying down the hall. A long forgotten diary leads Lyla to the events of a woman’s disappearance and her surly brother, still angry from losing his home and sister several decades before.  

​A Love Poem for Haven
 
you crept onto the scene with unshakeable determination
quietly embedding your soul into the soft flesh of my center
burrowing deep into the shelter of my being
and then you began to grow
making yourself welcome in the trepidations and confusion of my new relationship
unraveling the fabric of my spirit
destroying my fragile sense of self
wreaking havoc on my body in an explosion of hormones and nausea
designed to shatter any illusion of control
announcing to my surrendering cells you were here, and you were staying
and I cried
and I raged
and I fought against the reality of never ending responsibility
the loss of my inspired vision of freedom and adventure
for my quickly disappearing youth
I fell into the anguish of leaving my old life behind
found myself wandering through a dense forest of overgrown vines and uprooted trees,
searching for any path at all familiar to my dissolving self
but, eventually, I was able to take a breath
and I began to delight in the tiny ripples of your movements
thoughts of your small body nestled against mine
visions of stunning blue eyes watching me in innocent wonder
small, soft hands digging next to mine in the dirt of the garden
my body grew and I felt the earth pull me closer in her embrace
we were growing together,
breathing together,
you and I
but then suddenly, forcefully, you were ready to join the rest of the world
and again I cried, and I raged, and I screamed
feeling close to death yet not caring if it came
thrown into the gripping spasms of unendurable pain
but, I did endure
and eventually, I was able to take a breath
and I sang, and I hummed and I pushed with every thoroughly ravaged cell of my being
lost then as to even why, but answering the ancient, irresistible pull of birth
I pushed you into the waiting hands of your father and I and…
there are no words for that moments…
for meeting you the first time;
men write poems of divinely inspired, unconditional love
of enduring unutterable hardships and experiencing soul-encompassing joy in the love they have for another
But mothers,
we live it
we breathe it,
we birth it

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