26/30, 27/30

I know I don’t owe anyone an explanation about the gaps in my 30-poems-in-30-days undertaking. But I want to give some context anyway, if nothing else then out of appreciation for those who have liked or reblogged or commented on my writing so far. It is comforting to feel less like shouting into a void, like I am hearing sounds bounce off solid beings across the dark. Thank you for keeping me inspired, and accountable.

I took some time this weekend to go off the grid and sink into a safe haven of trees and hot springs and streams. I haven’t spoken to anyone so little in a long time, and it was a sharp relief, knowing I didn’t have to try and tune in to or accommodate anyone else. I focused my energy inward, bathed the parts of me that have been suffering with compassion and light and acceptance, as I let the hot pools of water soak my tired body. I sat with recent heartaches, the ending and changing of important relationships, the death of a patient I was close with (see 23/30). The openings and messages that emerged out of that time with the water and rocks and stars – they are swimming around in me still, waiting to be clarified. But I managed to catch small handfuls of them in my journal, and wanted to share them. Thank you for catching the sparks from my little heart and lighting me up with yours.


Grief as a Hot Spring

The heat is excruciating at first,
but my skin eventually stops
screaming that it is burning

and my breath relaxes again,
as if to say – yes. Yes to pain.
Yes to discomfort. My muscles

groan in reluctant pleasure.
Where did it come from, this myth
of healing being pleasant, easy?

I feel salt scouring even the tiniest
wounds. I look at my body through
the water – the skin all distorted

and strange. I ponder my deformities.
My body is a stranger now. I know
that I will feel lighter afterwards.

That I need not stay all night.
My fingers pucker. My face flushes.
I was made to endure, but also

to keep moving.

Things to Learn from Water

Move, constantly.
Shape paths into the earth.
Smooth hard rock into curves.
Flush out wounds.
Clear away old skin.
Reflect honestly.
Carry, or simply hold.
Quench and sustain.