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Posts Tagged ‘feeling’

How It Comes Out

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on January 4, 2026| 10 Comments »


 
 
I don’t know why sometimes
the same story can feel like ash
in the mouth and another time
like flame. Each time the story
is the same, but sometimes,
it scorches to share it.
I am thinking of today, how I read
a poem about your death
as if there were no more fuel to burn,
reciting a fact, as if saying,
There is no snow in the yard.
Five minutes later, I read the same
poem and had to restart four times
just to get past the first two lines.
I prefer the flame. Prefer to be moved
by how much you’ve changed me.
Not to dwell in the loss, but not
to shy from being torched by love.

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For the Heartbroken

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on December 8, 2024| 19 Comments »

 

 
 
I don’t know if there are angels,
but if there are, do they weep for us?
With all the beauty they know could be,
do they weep for all the pain we sow,
weep each time we hurt the world?
I don’t know if there are angels,
but sometimes when my own tears come,
I imagine the angels gather me
in their great and tireless arms,
and their tears mix with mine as they whisper,
That’s right, dear, feel everything.
We feel it all, too. That is why we sing.

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Visiting the Place Where My Son Died

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on November 18, 2024| 24 Comments »


 
 
Please, I tell myself,
don’t take this lightly.
Don’t walk into this room
as if it’s just another room.
Come with reverence.
Please, I say to myself—
all of my selves—
please don’t stride
across this wooden floor
as if it isn’t the last place
your son brought the world
into his lungs,
the last place he loved
and ached and wept.
So I sit and breathe
until I feel it rise in my chest
how sacred it is, this place.
I sit here until I feel
my attention split.
I notice the urge to leave.
I choose again to stay,
and the choice baptizes me.
Please, I say to myself,
please slow to the pace of stone.
Nothing to do but be here.
And the crying comes.
And goes. And comes again.
And goes. I close my eyes and
let the shadows grow.
Then open my eyes and look
beyond the window to the sky,
the cliffs, the lake.
Please, I tell myself,
do not refuse to see it is beautiful.
What is the part of me that dies?
And what is the part that rises,
slow and new, to walk again
into the world?

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Becoming

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , on February 21, 2022| 6 Comments »



The hurt you embrace becomes joy.
            —Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī, , trans. Coleman Barks, “Silkworms,”


To wake and not want
to change anything.
To let the heart feel
what it feels.
To be disarmed,
defenseless
and so alive.
There are days
love claims us
so utterly
we unfold
into the moment,
whatever it holds,
certain we were made for it.
Nothing has prepared us
for this.
Everything
has prepared us
for this.

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