98 Comments

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.

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Love! I am my own catharsis.

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"....Does not have to be perfect..."

(just has to be)

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"Nope. "

Right!?

So right.

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Something about this poem made me want to jump up and cheer. Well done!

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Hurray! Always a great response to get 😁 Thank you from a fellow Sarah.

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A Sarah with an 'h', too!

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🙌

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I love this so much. It reminds me of my relationship with my younger sister. Her middle name is Grace.

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Awh, that's wonderful 💜 I love the name Grace.

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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.

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Gorgeous.

And painful.

Balance be damned.

Thank you.

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I love this

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Beautiful. I've been listening to a similar song this morning.

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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.

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Ah, so lovely. I resonate strongly with this experience...

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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!

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Friend, this is beautiful. "The heaviness, the joy, and deep wild rage," was me trying on denim shorts this morning. Thank you for providing a way for me to release some of that through your words.

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Thank you, Sarah! It means so much to know that it spoke to you.

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I feel the numbness, the heaviness, the tears, and the wild rage at times. Thank for sharing

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please, yes, let some of it go.

Thank you for your poetic permission.

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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.

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The imagery of piecing together fragments "into a stained-glass hope beyond our fathoms" is just gorgeous.

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Sooooo good, thank you

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Todd, thank you. Your words touched me deeply. "This, dear ones, is the gift of divine grace."

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your words touched me today - I can relate so deeply to what flows from your heart

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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....")

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I love how your poem is a series of instructions ones, I also find very cathartic.

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🙂 thanks kim.

Rock & roll has magical healing powers.

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A recipe for catharsis is brilliant.

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Chuck, I thoroughly enjoyed this. Thank you.

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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

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I annoint it with salty tears

cleanse it with smoky song

🥰✨️

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I feel like this healed a bit of my inner child. Thank you.

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Oof, that's meaningful. Thank you.

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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

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Beautiful. I have left many a worry with the ocean.

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May 2Edited

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.

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Wow, lulu! I too struggle to find my voice and your poem speaks volumes to me. Your voice came out beautifully here!

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Such strong images from few simple words connecting. Thank you for sharing this. I'm moved.

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Lulu, bless you for writing this. Thank you.

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This feels so powerful, lulu.

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Periods to indicate break between stanzas. also lost the italics from my word document- does anyone know how to keep them on here?

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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.

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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.

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I am constantly catching myself trying to rush the process.

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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.

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Haha it is painful but has become a staple for me. I cycle inside and climb outside 😂🙈

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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.

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Definitely one of my favourite kinds of catharsis

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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.

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I almost felt breathless reading this. I remember your poems from last year, Lisa, and I'm excited to see you here again!

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That is so sweet, thank you! This challenge is always so inspiring.

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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

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Wonderful imagery here, Amy.

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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.

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This is so good, Sarah. And it's reminding me that I need to try to find an accessible movement outlet.

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Thank you! I forget who said it first, maybe Kate Bowler, but "take the damn walk!" It always helps.

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'nothing is solved, but perspective is gained' 💜

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catharsis shaking

me out of mute mindlessness

live, for bob's sake. LIVE!

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For Bob's sake 😁

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I might need to borrow "for bob's sake." It made me chuckle.

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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.

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