What special insight your poem holds, A. I love tghe weaving of your lines from heavy to light and in between. Letting so cathartic and oh so challenging to do!
I don't know if there's a way you can keep them, but I usually use asterisks where I would put italics, like *this* - I've seen people use /this/ as well.
Your words drew me into your "journey" on the bike. I imagined you were "hitting the roads"...of life...and then was reminded of the painful journey of Peloton.
I live the combination here, Katlin. Letting go, grief, first peloton ride. I too am an indoor cyclist who uses the Peloton App, and often it is not just the ride but the affirmation and coaching/coaxing of the instructor who helps me let go, if only for a little while.
Cathar-sis-ter
I don't have time
Nor energy
To research
If the '-sis'
In catharsis
Has a link
To the '-sis'
In sister.
In any case
You, sweet sister,
Have helped
Me understand
More times
Than I can count
That relief -
Release -
Does not have
To be perfect;
That I do not
Have to be
Some fairytale
Version of pure -
Unattainable -
Demure.
You call to me
With simplicity -
'Your release,
Little sis,
Will not
Come from
An external source.
Nope.'
I am
My own
Catharsis.
My middle name
Is Hope.
Love! I am my own catharsis.
"....Does not have to be perfect..."
(just has to be)
"Nope. "
Right!?
So right.
I love this so much. It reminds me of my relationship with my younger sister. Her middle name is Grace.
Awh, that's wonderful 💜 I love the name Grace.
Hurray! Always a great response to get 😁 Thank you from a fellow Sarah.
🙌
So many poets
recite litanies
of genus and species
when writing of birds.
I only know
that the particularly exuberant
symphony of song
that they're singing
this morning
is palliative.
Gorgeous.
And painful.
Balance be damned.
Thank you.
I love this
Beautiful. I've been listening to a similar song this morning.
It is easy to forget
how much I am holding.
I have become numb
under the weight of it all.
But when something
gets thrown on top of the pile
or when something
finally, blessedly, falls away
I can feel it all again --
the heaviness, the joy,
childlike wonder,
and deep, wild rage --
and it pours out,
as it must, in tears
to remind me
I am not carrying it all alone,
and we were never
meant to hold it all, and
it is okay --
it is necessary, even --
to let some of it go.
Ah, so lovely. I resonate strongly with this experience...
What special insight your poem holds, A. I love tghe weaving of your lines from heavy to light and in between. Letting so cathartic and oh so challenging to do!
I feel the numbness, the heaviness, the tears, and the wild rage at times. Thank for sharing
please, yes, let some of it go.
Thank you for your poetic permission.
Thank you, Sarah! It means so much to know that it spoke to you.
Road
The road to healing leads
not through an imagination
that denies what hurt us;
neither does it speed
past the experience
with a “Better days are ahead!” declaration.
Instead, it has
pull-offs and overlooks,
which invite us to pause,
even and especially
at the painful places
where we’re bleeding,
and holds our hand
as the emotions sink in.
As the depth and breadth
of our grief is absorbed,
when we’re ready to look up —
whenever and however
that happens —
a bit of the fog lifts,
revealing a path toward a place
where our shattered fragments
can be re-puzzled
and reattached into
a stained-glass hope
beyond our fathoms.
This, dear ones,
is the gift of divine grace.
The imagery of piecing together fragments "into a stained-glass hope beyond our fathoms" is just gorgeous.
Sooooo good, thank you
your words touched me today - I can relate so deeply to what flows from your heart
Catharsis - a rolling stones recipe
.
.
CAR
(windows rolled up)
+ SELECTED TUNE
("under my thumb" or similar)
+ VOLUME
(high is best)
.
STIR ZESTFULLY
AS YOU HOWL WITH MICK.
.
GINGER IT UP WITH:
(dynamic steering wheel drumming)
(spirited headbanging)
(random jagger-like sneers and gestures)
.
REPLAY AS NEEDED
(no limit)
.
purge will be complete
when you are out of breath.
and smiling contentedly.
.
.
("....the change has come....")
I love how your poem is a series of instructions ones, I also find very cathartic.
🙂 thanks kim.
Rock & roll has magical healing powers.
A recipe for catharsis is brilliant.
sometimes
the flashbacks feel like justice
a rabid outpouring of righteous rage
towards he who stole my childhood
screams cascade from my locked throat
as my body remembers
what the body of this poem could never
fully convey
about the child’s body living in me
I anoint it with salty tears
cleanse it with smoky song
and give it back to her
- catharsis
I annoint it with salty tears
cleanse it with smoky song
🥰✨️
I feel like this healed a bit of my inner child. Thank you.
Oof, that's meaningful. Thank you.
Catharsis
Quietly
I watch the tide
the waves
roll in
roll out
rush in
slip out
And as the sun drops
slowly in the sky
I let the pain
the fear
the hurt
and the tears
slip quietly out with the tide
surrendering as the sun sets
Beautiful. I have left many a worry with the ocean.
catharsis cathartic
say it real soft and it comes without feeling
say it from your throat and it comes out swinging
.
my voice has been so meek and mild lately
strained and whispering
lilting up, questioning
no worries if not
subtext
i’m supercool and chill
i don’t
take up
space.
.
what bad humors
could i be rid of
if i raised my voice
just a tiny
bit?
.
what sour twisted
things
would come out if i purged
the doubt
and questioning from my
diaphragm
and just
once
spoke with the
clearness of my convictions?
.
clarity is a luxury
it’s expensive
and over my
budget at
the moment.
.
until i can afford it
until i can award it
.
i will find my catharsis
where i can:
small burning embers-
ashes really-
purifying gasps
hallowed halts
of words that are trying to form
in my uncertain chest.
.
then it will be big
and bright
cleansed
and clear.
my cathartic reckoning.
my transfigured unveiling.
my dawn of a new morning,
rosy fingers brushing over hills and
dewy grass, greeting
the world with
my words.
speaking from my chest.
cathartic. catharsis.
i claim my space.
Wow, lulu! I too struggle to find my voice and your poem speaks volumes to me. Your voice came out beautifully here!
Such strong images from few simple words connecting. Thank you for sharing this. I'm moved.
This feels so powerful, lulu.
Periods to indicate break between stanzas. also lost the italics from my word document- does anyone know how to keep them on here?
I don't know if there's a way you can keep them, but I usually use asterisks where I would put italics, like *this* - I've seen people use /this/ as well.
Catharsis - how my body aches -
how my heart wonders why it is taking so long.....
what mysteries and memories are locked inside of me, blocking any catharsis.
I yearn for inner cleansing;
I hope for inner freedom;
I desire to release all that holds me bound......
Catharsis - my powerlessness to rush my own process
Catharsis - learning to listen, to wait
Catharsis - doing the work, finding feeling, memories
Catharsis - giving responsibility for my pain back to my abusers
Catharsis - for me right now - to hope, to await, to grieve, to breathe.
I am constantly catching myself trying to rush the process.
Your words drew me into your "journey" on the bike. I imagined you were "hitting the roads"...of life...and then was reminded of the painful journey of Peloton.
Haha it is painful but has become a staple for me. I cycle inside and climb outside 😂🙈
Catharsis
“What - you, too?!”
The moment I open up
about what has been
bound up
covered up
suppressed
and rejected
within.
And I see you nod
with understanding
because you’ve been there
as well.
My verbal purging
confession
has brought us
connection
not rejection.
I smile in relief,
unburdened
and feeling seen.
Definitely one of my favourite kinds of catharsis
My boots in the snow.
Screaming at the train,
Wishing my anger on the cars
clacking on tracks
away, away, away.
_
Deep breaths.
A sob.
A getting up.
A trying again.
I almost felt breathless reading this. I remember your poems from last year, Lisa, and I'm excited to see you here again!
That is so sweet, thank you! This challenge is always so inspiring.
Day 2: Catharsis
Her body constricting
Pressure building
A tiny black hole
Though she was
Sucking
The gravity
Out of every room
She kept on
Carrying on
Powering through
Always more to do
Until the flood
Swept her away
Lifted her off her feet
Embraced her in power
The waters
Healing and raging
Over her
Peeling layer
After layer
Each releasing pressure
Until her hips could
Sway
Until her voice could
Sing
Until her tears could
Flow
Until she was the
Flood
Wonderful imagery here, Amy.
Horror on the news.
Shove it down.
Another friend diagnosed
with cancer.
Shove it down.
Political chaos, my rights
being stripped away.
Shove it down.
The tears rise, unbidden, and threaten
to spill.
Shove them down.
My awareness of tragedy
exceeds
my capacity
to handle it.
I ease my body into the water
briefly shocked by the cold.
A few quick breaths psych me up
to dive in.
Lap after lap, my brain replays
all the worry, all the fear.
Righteous anger swirls in my wake
as I propel myself through another lap.
In a strange alchemy
of sweat and chlorine,
my worries shift into something new.
Nothing is solved,
but perspective is gained.
Palpable catharsis.
I climb out of the pool with fresh
resolve.
This world can be
better.
This is so good, Sarah. And it's reminding me that I need to try to find an accessible movement outlet.
Thank you! I forget who said it first, maybe Kate Bowler, but "take the damn walk!" It always helps.
'nothing is solved, but perspective is gained' 💜
catharsis shaking
me out of mute mindlessness
live, for bob's sake. LIVE!
For Bob's sake 😁
I might need to borrow "for bob's sake." It made me chuckle.
I live the combination here, Katlin. Letting go, grief, first peloton ride. I too am an indoor cyclist who uses the Peloton App, and often it is not just the ride but the affirmation and coaching/coaxing of the instructor who helps me let go, if only for a little while.