a poem
what luck
The night the old tree fell
I thought the sky ripped
open, a dreamy, far-away sound
that hurt
I wonder sometimes
what bits of luck
I'm overlooking-
the bird poop
landing two inches
to my right
the oncoming car
drifting back
into its lane
a scrap of supper
tossed to the dog
instead of becoming
a last bite
the invisible things
that talk a tree
into falling
over the road, instead
of over the bed
a prayer
My family and I left my most sacred place last week. This goodbye felt a little more poignant than usual- times are changing, and while I usually say “I’ll see you again next year old friend”, that didn’t feel quite right to say this time around.
Standing at the edge of the lake, feeling some big feelings, I placed some driftwood I had gathered in the sand. As I did so, I said a prayer along with each stick. One of these prayers was for you. I prayed for your wellbeing, and that the right poems find you at the right time. (The latter perhaps being a silly thing to pray for, as this is what poems tend to do. But it felt like the right thing to pray for in the moment).
I am grateful, so grateful, that you are here, reading my poems and whatever other odds and ends feel pressing enough to share. Thank you.
write with me in Maine
I will be teaching two workshops on embodied poetry at the Awaken Wellness Retreat this month. We gather August 28th-September 2nd at a lovely getaway in Bar Harbor, Maine. Acadia National Park is on the docket, as well as many other workshops centered around creativity and the inner workings of the nervous system, nourishing meals, paddling, and various adventures. A couple spots remain. If you would like to join us, you can learn more here.
How wonderful and beautiful 💕
The entire poem is pure beauty and poignancy wrapped up together so eloquently. I love this poem as much as I love you (which is a whole lot!). Thank you for this offering 🤍