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Bouquet

September 16, 2022 by Rosemerry

  for Shawnee
 
 
This morning, knowing you were coming,
I went to the garden and cut the largest sunflower
to put in a vase on the table.
It was the loveliest of all the garden’s flowers,
planted from seed four months ago.
 
When I was younger than you are now,
my grandmother gave me voluptuous roses
in a simple blue glass vase.
I felt so connected to her this morning
as I made a bouquet for you.
I understood something new of devotion.          
 
Unable to thank her, I thanked
the sunflower. Her love from three decades ago
pulsed through the stem like sunshine.
How did I not feel the full magnitude then?
I give all that love to you.
 
 
 
 

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One Impossible Act?

September 14, 2022 by Rosemerry


falling from the high wire—
now’s a good time
to learn to fly

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Everyone Talks About the Light in the Darkness

September 13, 2022 by Rosemerry


 
There is a light inside the light,
   a light that ever burns.
     It’s easy not to notice it
when it’s surrounded with other light,
   but it is there, shining.
     It is, perhaps, like a candle
lit at noon in a sun-bright room—
   almost imperceptible, and yet
     to the one who lit the candle,
the light it offers
   is so much more than photons.
     It requires trust to receive
the light no one else can see,
   this light that weaves through
     the light of the world to reach you,
this light that shines for you.
 
 

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What I Can Offer

September 12, 2022 by Rosemerry


for S & J

I want to give you something
necessary as rain and lasting as honey,
something useful as a spoon,
something helpful as wheels.

Sometimes it feels so inadequate
to offer you a poem, a prayer,
the small light of a candle,
a hammock woven only of blessings.

Still, as you meet these difficult hours
I wish you the peace of the amber field,
wish you the rose quartz of dawn.

Because it’s what I can do, I offer you poems,
prayers, the small flame of a candle, and
a hammock of blessings woven with dark, with light.

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Remembering

September 12, 2022 by Rosemerry


for Finn (9/11/04-8/14/21)


I threw rocks in the river today.
Not because I thrill to throw rocks,
but because I love to remember
how you thrilled to throw rocks.
How you squealed at the spray
and clapped your hands at the sound
of the quiescent surface being broken.

Your joy was the pure joy of life itself,
life that knows itself through tossing,
through splattering, through squealing,
life that longs to stand on the bank
and throw rock after rock after rock.
Joy was never in the rock itself,
it wasn’t even in the splash,

nor is there joy in the rocks today.
But there is joy in feeling close to you here.
Joy in the memory of you being so alive.
Joy in remembering your smile,
your hands flying up in delight.
Joy, even, in the longing for you.
I throw rock after rock. I remember.

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Three Poems in ONE ART: Spaciousness in Grief

September 11, 2022 by Rosemerry

How might openness, connection and compassion grow from grief? That’s what I explore in three poems published today in the wonderful ONE ART: a journal of poetry. In addition to our country’s history with 9/11, it would have been my son Finn’s 18th birthday today. For all who are grieving, my heart opens to yours. May we find spaciousness in our hearts for ourselves and each other.

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Emerging Form Podcast Finalist for International Women’s Podcasting Awards

September 10, 2022 by Rosemerry

For the last few years, my wonderful friend Christie Aschwanden and I have been co-hosting a podcast on creative process, Emerging Form. We took a short break this summer, but we returned this week with an episode in which we talk about the past year and how creative practice has helped us in a time of uncertainty and trauma. To listen to this episode (episode 70), you can find our podcast on any popular podcast site (spotify, apple podcasts, etc), or here. https://emergingform.substack.com/p/episode-70-checking-in-one-year-later#details

We are, in specific, responding to a podcast recorded a year ago in which we speak about Christie’s father’s stroke and my son’s death by his own hand. That episode (Episode 50) can be found here. https://emergingform.substack.com/p/episode-50-creativity-in-times-of#details 

We just found out that that episode, 50, has made Emerging Form a finalist for the International Women’s Podcast Awards. Winners are announced September 29, 2022.

The main episodes are always free. If you become a member you also get bonus content every other week–for instance, this week, I will be doing a bonus episode on using metaphor as tool for meeting grief. 

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One Foreshadowing

September 10, 2022 by Rosemerry


still seeds in the ground
all those forests
we’ll someday walk through

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Life Lesson

September 9, 2022 by Rosemerry

Though the old snap peas dangle
dried and yellow on the dying vine,
and the lettuce, once tender,
has bolted and toughened,
and the kale, now blue,
is aphid-ridden,

the calendula, cosmos,
nasturtiums and marigolds
are in full-bloom and generous.
I fill the house with vases,
each bouquet a celebration
of great change.
It thrills me. Oh, summer,
you die so beautifully.

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Things that Turn

September 8, 2022 by Rosemerry

A new leaf,
a blind eye,
a disco ball,
the corner,
a key,
a page,
the hands of a clock,
the other cheek,
the milk,
a wrench,
a phrase,
the tables,
a turbine,
a deaf ear,
a trick,
your back,
the tide,
a screw,
heads, of course,
the earth itself,
and ever my thoughts
toward you.

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