Inspiration is weird. Is this a love poem? I don't know.
Tuesday, February 11, 2020
Monday, February 10, 2020
Saturday, February 1, 2020
somewhere, anywhere
echoes of emotion
like gentle waves
on sun dappled shores
irritate as sand does
in unwanted crevices
a wafting scent of sadness
soft songs of longing
and a building need
to
just
g o
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
bruises
"poking bruises isn't self harm",
I tell myself
as I continue
to press press press
on the tender spots
Sunday, January 26, 2020
Saturday, January 25, 2020
Wednesday, January 15, 2020
please reply
Dear Mom,
I know you thought it was stupid how people wrote happy birthday posts to dead loved ones on social media. "People don't care about birthdays when they're dead. And they're surely not checking facebook!"
Yeah, I know. It's the new version of talking to gravestones (Yes, I know you thought that was stupid, too. That's why I phrased it that way). But, the thing is, I finally kind of get the mentality. Maybe those people are alone, and not sitting well with it. Maybe they don't have anyone they feel they can grieve with. Maybe their loss is still too big to be contained.
I don't want to tell you happy birthday.
I wanna tell you how hard this year has been. And all the stupid shit that's happened. I want to tell you that I feel stuck, and I don't know how to get out. I wanna tell you that I'm scared, nearly every day, waiting for the next catastrophe, and they seem to always come. I wanna ask you where the fuck your keys and and my damn birth certificate are. I wanna tell you that I haven't managed to burn the house down (yet), but it came close a couple times. I want to ask you to hug Mamma for me, to tell Nothing and Elwood how much I miss them. I want to tell you to ask Dad what the hell that weird noise is that the car is making.
Only...really, I don't want to tell you anything. I just want you to hug me and tell me everything is gonna be okay, even if it's not.
I know you thought it was stupid how people wrote happy birthday posts to dead loved ones on social media. "People don't care about birthdays when they're dead. And they're surely not checking facebook!"
Yeah, I know. It's the new version of talking to gravestones (Yes, I know you thought that was stupid, too. That's why I phrased it that way). But, the thing is, I finally kind of get the mentality. Maybe those people are alone, and not sitting well with it. Maybe they don't have anyone they feel they can grieve with. Maybe their loss is still too big to be contained.
I don't want to tell you happy birthday.
I wanna tell you how hard this year has been. And all the stupid shit that's happened. I want to tell you that I feel stuck, and I don't know how to get out. I wanna tell you that I'm scared, nearly every day, waiting for the next catastrophe, and they seem to always come. I wanna ask you where the fuck your keys and and my damn birth certificate are. I wanna tell you that I haven't managed to burn the house down (yet), but it came close a couple times. I want to ask you to hug Mamma for me, to tell Nothing and Elwood how much I miss them. I want to tell you to ask Dad what the hell that weird noise is that the car is making.
Only...really, I don't want to tell you anything. I just want you to hug me and tell me everything is gonna be okay, even if it's not.
Tuesday, January 14, 2020
Fight Fire With Words, day 2
Day two of the #fightfirewithwords symposium. Full disclosure, I almost skipped this one because I've written about grief so much in the past year. I'd like this to be more hopeful...but I'm just not there yet.
Please consider donating to either of these very worthy charities:
www.wires.org.au
hhttps://www.gofundme.com/f/help-thirsty-koalas-devastated-by-recent-fires
Check out the event page:
You can still join the symposium here:
https://coursecraft.net/courses/z9ZMb
https://coursecraft.net/courses/z9ZMb
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