Then comes the moment
when not one thing is more important
than walking to the river
and finding a wide rock in the middle
of the flow where I can sit
and speak to you.
There’s not much to say
these days besides I love you,
I miss you. So I say the paltry words,
six inadequate syllables.
As always they are sorry translations
for the infinite songs of my heart.
So I sit on the rock and listen;
silence the language you speak now.
I’ve been learning its tender
conjugations—you were. You are.
You have been. You will have been.
Is it true they all sound the same?
I practice silence long enough
the river moves through me
touching all I cannot say.
I don’t know how I know
when it is time to rise.
The silence holds me.
I teach the silence your name.
Archive for August, 2025
After a Morning of Crossing Things from a List
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged death anniversary, grief, love, missing, river, silence, talking to the dead on August 13, 2025| 12 Comments »
Wonder Woman Writes Back
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poetry, superhero, truth, wonder woman on August 12, 2025| 2 Comments »
That strapless suit, those high heel boots,
those were lures. The invisible plane was, too.
The real story was always the Lasso of Truth,
that golden rope forged by Hephaestus.
Superman has his vision. The Hulk
has his strength, but sweetheart,
there is no power stronger than the truth—
the willingness to want it, the urgency
to find it, the longing to know it,
even when the truth is something
we’d rather not hear. I know you don’t
have the luxury of a lasso, but
you have poems, and they will help you
question everything you know.
Our greatest enemies are always
the ones inside us, especially
when it comes to the truth. Your greatest
gift is your wonder. Let it rope
around you, invite you into
a listening beyond the words.
What is true will always escape.
Still, devote yourself to such listening,
to a practice of circling what is true.
That circling is what will save you.
Still Here: Cinepoem on How We Go On
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged cinepoem, Risking Love on August 12, 2025| Leave a Comment »
I was gone on Friday when I normally release the videos from my new album, and this one is timely. Thursday will be the four-year anniversary of the loss of my son, Finn. How do we go on after great loss? How do we continue to breathe when it feels as if life has ended? This poem remembers those first moments, that first week, that first year. Perhaps you have felt this great uncertainty, too. I am so grateful for the amazing work of guitarist Steve Law and videomaker Holiday Mathis for co-creating this video about how we go on. It’s from the new album Steve & I just released, RISKING LOVE, poems about loving even when love feels impossible. Please share this video with others who are wondering how they will go on. To purchase RISKING LOVE, visit here.
Spotify: here
Deezer: here
Pandora: here
Apple Music: here
YouTube Music: here
Video and Audio Releases from RISKING LOVE to Date
Safety Net
The Precious Matter of Love
I Want an Interlude with Mr. Clean
Into the Questions
For the One Who Is Gone
In Case You Don’t Know Already
The Long Marriage
The Broken Heart Goes Dancing
Still Here
One Humbling
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged humbling, insufficiency, language, writing on August 11, 2025| 6 Comments »
writing for four years
still not able to fully describe
that one moment
One Practice
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haikuling, resilience, sky, wings on August 11, 2025| 2 Comments »
said the fallen woman
to the indifferent sky
I am still learning to fly
Call and Response
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, friendship, moon, nature on August 11, 2025| 2 Comments »
for Cindy
Are you there? she said
as she came to my door.
I’m here, I said.
Are you there? she said.
I’m here, I said.
Come, she said,
and we walked to the field
where behind the ridge
the glow of the moon
had begun to appear.
We whispered as we waited
for the moon to rise,
whispered of dreams
and legacies, until, at last,
the fullness had rounded
into the sky,
and we said goodnight,
both of us knowing
we’d witnessed a miracle—
not the miracle of moonrise,
though that, too,
but the alchemy of two hearts
choosing to meet
the world together.
The Clearing
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged clearing, corn lilies, giving self to the world, mountain, opening, summer on August 11, 2025| 2 Comments »
I want to give myself to life
as completely as the corn lilies rising
from the floor of this clearing.
All summer they have practiced
growing from tightness
into an ecstasy of green unfolding.
Where have I yet to unfold?
So often I clench around my fear
so long I no longer notice I’m clenching.
But here at tree line, there is not
one corn lily still trapped in its tightness,
all of them, now unfurled,
beginning their push toward goldening,
toward falling back to the earth,
toward moldering toward nothing.
That utterly, I want to give myself.
Want to become the clearing.
After the Loss
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, grief, love on August 6, 2025| 16 Comments »
It arrived as a tidal wave,
so much love from
so many people
all around the world.
Too much, too much,
I thought, until
I imagined just one
person not sending
love and then knew
with every cell
that drowning in love
was the only way
to stay afloat.—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
*a personal note–
dear friends, we are a week from the fourth anniversary of my son’s death, and as I reach this milestone I can feel it approaching in my body–something in the color of the trees, the temperature at night, the slant of the light. My whole body remembers. And I remember, too, not only the horror but also the shock of the love. And so many of you were the ones who were there for me. I will forever remember how carried I was (still am) by your love. Thank you for the tidal wave. I do not know how I would have survived without it. May all who are grieving be carried by love through no effort of their own.
*Also, I will be away from internet for the next few days. I will wait to release this week’s single from my new album Risking Love until I return, and friends, it is HAWT. I’ll be back with a bouquet of poems for you, plus the new video, on Sunday night.
What Comes Next
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged goodness, Palestine, peace, story, war on August 5, 2025| 13 Comments »
There’s a place in my brain where hate won’t grow.
—Naomi Shihab Nye, “Jerusalem”
The man in Palestine runs
toward airdropped parcels,
is shot in the back of his head.
The military says such a shot
was never fired. The dead man
does not argue back. His body
is carried away with medicine,
dried beans, sacks of flour.
How many more must weep?
This world. This world with its
guns and fear and righteousness.
Whether or not we hold the gun,
we all have a finger on a trigger.
What else can we do with our hands?
I want to believe in a goodness
that persists despite cruelty—
not a fairytale story with a wand
or a genie, but a real story in which
a real woman grows peaches and gives
them away for the joy of giving.
A story in which a man helps another
man build a home with a bed, an oven,
a roof. War comes so quickly.
Peace comes so slow. I want to believe
there is in all of us a place
where hate won’t grow.
I want to feed that place in myself.
I want to listen to that place in you.
I want us to live into another possible world,
discover what else our lives can do.