This is where we begin.

Better Homes and Gardens

I stare out the backseat van window spotted with raindrops that enlarge and then race in forked patterns over the glass. Ready, set, go. I tease two twin dots. They accept my challenge and fall… Read more


I bought a Meyer lemon tree
last Mother’s day
in memory of my mother.

Meyer lemons favor
a taste sweeter than the ordinary… Read more


Feet that walk in Garden cool,
Stride atop tempestuous seas.   
Voice that speaks Creation’s all.
Hands smear clay:  a blind man seesRead more

The Women Heard

The women heard
that something happened in the garden after dinner.
The men were overcome by exhaustion
unable to keep watch…. Read more

The Crumbling Mess of My Heart

Ruins everywhere. As I walk the site of an ancient city in Israel, I sigh at the sight of destruction. I see nothing left but stacks of well-worn stone. Tumbled-down walls of rock. Debris from past lives. Remnants of greatness… Read more

No Forcing, No Holding Back

The moment I opened my car door, I could hear the creek — a gurgling rush of water, spilling over rocks and roots. The sun-lit flash I had spotted as I pulled into the driveway cut through the center of our new homestead… Read more


I watched at a window, a twin winging each hip, as they hollowed you from the earth, careful as surgeons, a dozen work-booted men, each jumping on his own shovel. The man-in-charge, the one who’d driven by the week before and offered us the money, had a sixth-sense about margins… Read more

Things I’m Good At

“Good job,” my husband said, when I hopped back into the warm SUV. We’d just finished eating yet another pandemic Friday night dinner in the car and had driven to a CVS Pharmacy to dispose of the leftovers. I’d made the quick dash from car to outside… Read more


I need you in the ruins of my heart,
in all the wounded, desolated places
where darkness comes in as a flood,
I need your tender, healing grace… Read more

I remember, still, the way they lifted you from the earth, the hulking forceps, the clods of dirt falling from your fibers like fat clots of blood, the clumpy clay trail you left all the way to the street.

Jennie Cesario

We gather to grow, to pay attention and tell the world what we observe.

This is a community of female writers who wish to change the world through beauty, truth, and living fully awake.

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Awake Our Hearts is an online literary publication celebrating the gift of creativity, faith, God’s goodness and beauty, and the voice of women.

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