But when it eclipses fear,
whole worlds can be re-ordered.
I have to kiss the world
twice as hard now.
I have to feel the weight
of each leg of every butterfly
that chooses to alight on my skin.
I have to drench myself
in the feel of moss
and twilight colors
over and over again
to make my heart full and heavy
with all the world’s subtle delights
to outweigh the grief it carries.
Song Choice: Nature Boy covered by Aurora
Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem was created for the Friday Writing's Prompt at Poets and Storytellers United. It asked us to use a cliché in an unusual way.
Aiming towards the sun,
the hawk shows dedication.
Cultivating grace
in those who witness her flight.
She shows the path to follow.
Some memories
are sharp enough to cut
off my breath,
leaving me
gasping
like a fish
who just wants
her ocean
back.
Song Choice: Breaking Down by Florence + the Machine
Liner Notes for this Groove: I know I'm getting serious about a new writing project when I start writing poetry in the voices of my characters. Rina has a some serious inner demons to face (and several fae beings are just complicating the situation). But I'm deep into the super ugly rough first draft and enjoying getting to know her world.
This poem is linked to Poets and Storytellers United's Friday Writings prompt, Writing About Writing.
The thing about grief
is it’s more than the moment of impact.
It's also the shockwaves
after the asteroid hits your world.
It’s the cracking
along the fault lines
breaking apart continents.
It’s respecting the rage of the underground rivers
racing madly where you hoped
there might be gold, or at least iron
enough to try to make steel.
It’s the near drowning
in dozens of deep wells of resentment
before you find any sign
of a reservoir of grace.
It’s the exhaustion
in the mental cyclones
of forgetting and remembering,
wondering which is more painful.
It is also knowing
that even if every breath
I take ever after
is ragged and choked
there is something in me
that wants to keep breathing.