That time I felt it,
the words clawing forward, a feral
kind of wanting.
How they came, hot, unpolished,
thunder in my throat
And I couldn’t hold back.
Could only push through fearful breath
each tripping, bright-edged shard.
That time I said the thing, coated
with grief and swill, so long
impossible to say.
And I did not break,
disappear, collapse
in my aloneness.
Only opened to a sky of hands,
a chorus I could sip from.
Warm clasp
Soft voice
I’m here
I’m here
I’m here
A place where I could land.
Sometimes what keeps us stuck in our grief are the things we feel shame around, the regrets we carry, the guilt we won’t release, denying ourselves the softening salve of kindness and compassion. Sometimes we fear that taking one step toward our grief, saying one true thing out loud, will be our unraveling. Maybe it will. But the alternative, to stay tight and constricted, to banish our grief to our own private hinterlands, can be even more painful. What if the unraveling makes way for the healing? Creates the space for something new and life-giving to emerge? Invites in the wisdom of our bodies, our hearts? What if to unravel, to fall apart, to break down is what lets love in to hold and see us? Weaves us into a community where, at long last, we’re no longer alone in our grief.
A gentle, reflective space to explore your grief
Join me for this four-week workshop, offered through Write Pittsburgh. We’ll use poetry as a lens to explore our grief with writing prompts and exercises to help us express and move with our sorrows on the page. Each week will feature a series of poems from poets including Naomi Shihab Nye, Gwendolyn Brooks, Ada Limón, Mark Tredinnick and more, offered as an invitation to notice where and how their words land in the body and intersect with your own stories of loss. You don’t have to be a poet or writer to attend. This is an expressive writing workshop.
Learn more here.
A poet speaks to the heart of grief
My Breathing Wind co-host Sarah Davis and I were honored recently to sit down with poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer to talk about the death of her son Finn, her poetry practice and how she’s showing up for grief and staying open to love. Listen here or wherever you get your podcasts.