Big Sister Pine
Sister is a pine tree. She is growing into a big, big thing. I am sad she has no bones. I am sad her blood is sap. But sister will live to be five hundred…
Bellingham Review Contributor
Ananda Naima González is a writer, educator, multidisciplinary artist, and performer residing in Harlem, NY. She carries a BA and an MFA from Columbia University, in poetry and fiction respectively, and has taught at Gotham Writers Workshop. Her words have appeared in BOMB, McSweeney’s, Catapult, Apogee, The Southern Review, Lampblack, Waxing & Waning, and Twin Bird Review. She has been a finalist for awards granted by Gulf Coast Journal, LitMag, Indiana Review, Bellingham Review, and SmokeLong Quarterly, among others. Her mission is to honor the inherently sacred ritual of living. In addition to writing, she is also a professionally trained dancer and an accomplished choreographer and filmmaker.
Sister is a pine tree. She is growing into a big, big thing. I am sad she has no bones. I am sad her blood is sap. But sister will live to be five hundred…