The Thread Is Red

Creative Adventures of Tiffany Parris

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26 Aug

Where Are You From?

I am from a formula-fed, back to work in 6 weeks mama and a no-show, no-go father with no-name who’s still alive. I’m from scrap quilts backed with flour sacks feet…

27 Jul

Communion

While growing up, communion in church began for me in my imagination. The bread that was used during our small church services was made by hand in the kitchen of…

26 Dec

The Brown Hare and a Young Girl Meet God

I can still see and feel the soft pulsing thing on my eleven year old lap, watching it draw it’s final breaths rhythmically.  The rabbit, along with cans and squirrels, had been target…

25 Nov

Exile

So much depends on the remembering. An old story tickles for attention until it becomes a network of pulsing nerves throbbing under the skin, even before our brains can fish…

05 Nov

Braiding Our Daughter’s Hair

Between each of my fingers ribbons of my daughter’s hair trellis down over my forearms. My daughter, now twelve sits between my thighs, resting her arms over my legs. The…

28 Oct

When I dream of beauty, I can’t just dream it for myself. I dream it for everyone. When I dream of freedom, I can’t just dream for myself, but want…

28 Oct

Passion Incarnated

I had become familiar with the beautiful passionflower in dried form earlier this summer. Its nervine and analgesic properties were a win-win when looking for a plant to treat so…

15 Oct

Finding Feathers, Losing Faith

For months, if not lifetimes, I have felt it. For years I have sat, denying the undercurrent of a deep truth. Sitting in a pew, the same wooden pew for…

23 May

VI

No, not He who spoke softly to my ear, His silence cast and branded from a mold to sear. Then, the sweeping and coming of a bird gathering cloud and…

26 Jan

the women wore red

My grandmother died in the early hours of morning just two days after Christmas. The Hospice nurses said she had a peace about her near the end. They said she…

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