The dark rushes
into my lungs.
With each breath,
I imagine I
become more nothing.
The longer I’m
still, the more
I rhyme with
the vast dark
and know myself
as the mystery
that holds everything.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged dark, everything, nothing, solstice, three-word lines | 1 Comment »
for Finn
There was a list. We were laughing.
This is all I remember as first light
enters the windows, slips
somehow through closed lids.
I keep my eyes closed in hopes
that if I am still enough I can grasp
an image tendril of the dream
and tug it closer.
For hours, it doesn’t work.
When I stop reaching, what is here
are real memories of you—your
head bent over the table doing math,
how jealous you were of your sister’s
snowman stuffy, the way your feet hung
over the end of almost every bed.
Is it true all I had to do was stop reaching
for the dream so that whole skeins
of memories could unravel and wrap
me in their long, faithful strands?
Is it true being still is now the best
way I can hold you? I am still.
Somehow in the softening, I don’t feel
your hand here in my open hand, but I do.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged dream, grief, memory, stillness | 2 Comments »
January 6, 13, 20, 27 2026
One Spirit
Online, Recorded
$175/4 weeks
Every experience in life is worthy of our careful attention—even the most painful, broken times—and poetry provides a way to meet each experience with a willingness to witness the ever-unfolding story of our own lives and the story of our world. Though a poem can’t fix things, can’t heal us, can’t change the facts, reading and writing poems can change the way we meet the facts, and this can change everything. Together we’ll read poems, converse about them, use them as launching points for our own writing and talk about process. We’ll explore playing with metaphors and paradox, letting curiosity lead us past the edge of what we think we know into new possibilities for framing a moment. Wonder will be our guide. We’ll be less interested in writing something perfect and more interested in discovering our own stumbling blocks and epiphanies. Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer helps weave a safe environment for exploring how to bring wonder and self-compassion into a creative practice. More a playshop than a workshop—more soulwork than craft, though we will talk about how craft can serve our creative process, too. All levels of poetry-writing experience welcome.
Attendees will have a chance to:
- Explore creative writing to express your inner experience.
- Play with metaphors to create new frames for seeing the world.
- Hold our stories more loosely, with less judgment, more curiosity.
- Use writing as a tool for meeting difficult feelings.
- Share your experience (if desired) in a supportive community.
For more info and to register, visit here. And feel free to use this Affiliate Discount Code: POETRY26, Discount Amount: $15 OFF
NOTE FROM ONE SPIRIT: There is a note on the registration page and under each ticket that says to only purchase one ticket, any ticket, for any day, for $175. Unfortunately our system is limited when it comes to multi week events. It does not allow for me to put all of the dates without having “tickets” available for all of the dates. If you purchase 1 ticket for any week, you get the rest of the weeks as well. All 4 weeks = $175. Only purchase 1 ticket. Not to worry!
Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »
Eventually we learn to laugh when we drop
the glass and it shatters all over the floor,
finding laughter more fun than a shackle of curses.
We can wiggle our butt more when someone
says it looks big instead of trying to tuck it
tighter beneath our hips. Eventually we learn
there is no way to not be exactly ourselves.
What freedom then. We can listen to the sound
of our own voice without cringing. Can dance
in front of anyone. Can wake up grateful for our aging face
in the mirror. Can wear questions like exotic perfume
and see how they grow us. Eventually,
we can look at each other and say,
I’m so glad you are exactly who you are.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged aging, laughter, self-acceptance | 2 Comments »
An hour after we light the tree,
it’s hard to remember
how the room used to be—
so soon we relax into radiance.
It makes me want to whisper
luminous words, string kindnesses
together like twinkling garland,
hang them wherever it’s dim.
If we all spoke in light,
imagine that glow—how
quickly even the darkest spaces
inside and between us
could become welcoming,
warm, even, imagine, incandescent.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged christmas tree, kindness, light | 4 Comments »
I remember her waltzing across the living room
singing, Somewhere my love, dah dah dah, dah,
dah dah. She was dancing alone, as she often did,
but oh, could she waltz, small feet like wings, her thin
body gliding past tables and chairs, weaving, spinning,
her arms lifted up in the air around a loving partner
who had never been there. I don’t think
she knew the rest of the words, or at least
she didn’t sing them. Always Somewhere
my love, again and again, like a promise
she wanted to believe in. She danced
like that through my childhood. Perhaps
dancing itself was her love. I can see her now
box stepping, one, two, three, one two three,
each step a step closer to all she did not have.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged aloneness, dancing, grandmother, music | 8 Comments »
I ladle on extra sauce.
Roasted peanuts. Onion. Mint?
Fruity heat of yellow pepper.
It’s creamy, spicy, decadent.
I think how far Renee has traveled.
A wide river hides in his smile.
A great cat prowls through his name.
There are mountains in his eyes.
When Renee makes Huancaína,
I taste somewhere I’ve never been.
A sacred valley with ancient paths.
Misty skies and terraced lands.
His gift to us: within moments of tasting,
we travel flavors centuries in the making.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged food, peru, travel | 6 Comments »
A week before winter solstice,
we explore in our room a spilling
of low-angled sun, a deep pool
of light the darkness has not
yet devoured. Our bodies,
pale pilgrims traversing the night,
wade in, then dive, surprised
by this warm, naked hour.
Our hearts have been wrecked,
but we yet survive, washed up
like flotsam on this radiant
shore, this place we’ve known
thousands of days before.
But somehow, today,
this bright measure of sun
helps us more truly arrive—
sometimes it’s the unremarkable
gifts that keep us alive.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged light, nakedness, sun, survival, warmth, winter solstice | 11 Comments »
It was not all for this one moment
when she stood alone on stage,
poised on her toe shoes, both arms
raised, her hands and wrists pulsing
in delicate waves—all the pink tights
and hair nets, blisters and tears
and long rehearsals for fourteen years—
it was not all for this winged moment
when Saint-Saëns played and she leapt
and pirouetted and pas de bouréed—
but this was the moment when I knew
with certainty that in a world of ache
and cruelty, we can change the world
and be changed by beauty.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged ballet, beauty, daughter | 4 Comments »
after Hokusai
I fall asleep, wake,
fall asleep, wake, meanwhile
the sapling becomes a great spruce
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged parenting, time | 2 Comments »