Lisa Lawston
"Constant traveler between two worlds .“

Home – By Lisa Zoe Lawston

An old blue hat box with a water stain where years back I rest my glass. I lift the top. Odds and ends. Yellowed papers scribbled with drifting thoughts for future engagement.  Cards inked in childlike writing “Happy birthday, mama, I love you!” Tears. At the bottom of the well, floats my poetry magnet “home” staring back at me. I cup it in my hand and fold my fingers. The realization washes over me; I’ve carried this magnet around for fifteen years like an amulet. Hopeful.  It used to cling to my refrigerator door in Amherst along with enough words to tell this story in a hundred different ways. An icy blur of rage, sticky packing tape, weeping, crumpled newspaper, torn photographs, constant relocations, half-filled cardboard boxes, joblessness, bubble-wrap, poverty, judgment, the devastating addiction and untimely loss of my first child, yet somehow this remains. “Home.”  I still hold it… Continue reading

It Cracked my Heart Wide Open – Lisa Lawston

During the years of my daughters addiction sometimes she would go missing for months at a time. When I ate, I wondered if she had enough food. When I pulled the covers up at night, I wondered if she had a blanket… It cracked my heart wide open and it was during that time I unearthed a depth of compassion that I never knew I was capable of. There were a series of events that followed but the first was in NYC. I was approached at the train station by a young man around my daughters age, who looked like he’d been pulled under a few times in the current of life. He was bruised and cut and as the distance between us shortened rather than turning away in fear my energy expanded and when we met eyes the words just flowed, “How can I help?” He was someone’s child… Continue reading