Nadia Colburn lives in Cambridge, MA with her husband and two children. Her poems and prose have appeared in over fifty publications including The New Yorker, APR, Slate.com, Yes! Magazine and elsewhere.
In my poem of wisdom I’m a tree. I don’t care if I’m original. I don’t care if I’m everybody’s image. I grow out of stone. I stand in a wide field. And when they hang the rope from me I’m the same tree. And the girl Who never weeps does not weep. That, too, is okay. One day I… Read more →
How can you know you’ve survived? The hands still move, the feet, the heart though the mouth is frozen shut. I am taking the groceries out from the bag. I am putting the dishes Into the sink. I am sweeping under The table, and the tree outside, with its bare braches, sways gently in the wind. The children come in,… Read more →