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Archive for July, 2025

In Harsh Times

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on July 4, 2025| 11 Comments »


 
I know, music alone
will not save us. But tonight
when my daughter played
the song we both love,
we smiled at each other,
all giddy and warm,
and some shriveled
part of me revived.
It was like those seeds
in the desert that wait years
to germinate—all they need
is one good rain.
That’s what a song can do.
Remind us our hope
is merely dormant, not dead.
Who could blame me, then,
for wanting to bring a song
to the whole thirsty world,
a song that soaks into
our parched hearts,
stunning us with just how fast
even the harshest world
can transform.

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Into the Questions: Cinepoem from RISKING LOVE

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on July 4, 2025| 2 Comments »

I was a little surprised this particular video was scheduled for release on July 4. It wasn’t intentional, just how the date/track release happened to fall. But it feels strangely appropriate. Not celebratory, no, but an earnest query: In a time of othering and blaming when we seem hellbent on hurting each other, it’s time to live into difficult questions. I wrote this poem after listening to a conversation between two men–one in Gaza, the other in Israel. This is the fourth track on RISKING LOVE, a spoken-word album made in collaboration with stunning guitar player Steve Law, and it explores how we might fall more deeply in love with the world as it is, even when that seems impossible. The video is made by the incomparable Holiday Mathis. “Into the Questions” is available for download as a single on Spotify, iTunes, and more. The album releases July 18, 2025, on all platforms and is available for purchase on Band Camp, https://rosemerrywahtolatrommer.bandcamp.com/

Other Video and Audio Releases from Risking Love
Safety Net
The Precious Matter of Love
I Want an Interlude with Mr. Clean

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It’s the Fourth of July Again

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on July 3, 2025| 6 Comments »


 
 
And I didn’t go buy fireworks today.
Not yesterday, either. Nor will
I buy them tomorrow because you
will not be here to light them.
I realize now what I loved about fireworks
was how much you loved them,
the way you brightened when the fuse was first lit,
the way you glowed near incandescent
as the sparks and colors fountained and flashed.
And rapt in your thrill, I would ooh and ahh.
This is how it is. We shape our lives
around the joys of those we love.
You found joy in the bang, the pop,
the squeal, the repeating boom.
I don’t love the noise. Don’t love
the Sulphury smell. Maybe this year,
your dad and I will sit outside
and watch the sparkle of unmoving stars—
this tradition truer to my own sense of joy.
Maybe a meteor will streak the sky.
If it does, I am sure I will ooh and ahh
the way we used to on the Fourth of July,
the way I still do on any given day
because, despite the ache of missing you,  
I’m still stunned by this life,
stunned by the things that bring joy in the dark.
Like the candles I burn. Like holding your dad’s hand.
Like the memory of you. Like stars.

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Close Encounters

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on July 1, 2025| 18 Comments »


 
 
It was a little mangy, to be honest,
the rabbit in the forest that came close to me—
close enough I could see the way sunlight
made his long ears glow pink. Close enough
for me to coo and praise his remarkably long rabbit feet,
praise the white socks of his fur,
praise the bright brown of his eyes.
Even his patchy, uneven molting couldn’t stop me
from falling in love with the way he leapt
from fallen trunks into patches of bluebells.
We were all staring at him, all six of us,
wondering why he would come so close,
but I took his appearance personally—
like when we read a fortune cookie fortune
and believe there was a bit of our destiny in it.
I cannot see a bunny without believing it’s my son.
I know. It isn’t my son. I also know it is.
Every bunny reminds me he was here.
Every bunny is a chance to push past
my rational mind and fling open the doors
of love. Every bunny, especially this one who
comes so close, seems to say, Sweetheart,
don’t you believe in grace? And as the bunny
leaps from log to duff, I think, I do, I do, I do.

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