Every Day She Gives Us Poetry

an earth day poem + our upcoming poetry month

Dear friends,

I spent last week tucked into the West Virginia woods with my family, climbing and celebrating our relationship to one another and to Segmekwe (Mother Earth).

We learn so much about ourselves every time we visit the New River Gorge, every time we take a difficult trek deeper into the woods, every time we face our fears on the rock and feel a mix of victory, utter failure, terror and hope. We returned to Philly right before Earth Day, returned to a busy life to the chaos of our nation striving to know itself, to the magic of our inner worlds and souls always trying to speak something good and true to us.

Right before we left for this trip I turned in the final final FINAL edits for my upcoming book, Everything Is a Story. With tears, sitting in a coffee shop, I sent it off to my editor with so much gratitude and a smidge of trepidation.

And usually when I finish writing a book, there’s a little lull in words for me, which is truly a gift for someone with such an overactive, narrator-type imagination. It’s nice to have some empty space in my brain, to not have anything particularly important to say, to read others’ poetry and not have to write a lot of my own for a few days or for a week or two.

But yesterday I did write, two poems, and I want to share one with you because it’s centered around our relationship with our Mama, Mama Earth. I’ll pause here to say that I know mothering relationships can be strained and difficult for many people, and I hope that in this, you can expand to see her as a majestic, all-loving, healing presence who wants to shelter and hold you.

The Earth gives us poetry, every time we step out to listen, every time we make space for a little bit of time outside, with the sun shining on our faces, with our fears laid bare, when we surrender our deepest wishes to Grandmother Moon and feel her laughter and love in response.

You don’t have to be a certain kind of poet to receive poetry from the earth. She simply gives it to you, a gift, a kindness, wrapped in the softest moss for you to hold and cherish as long as you need it.

Here’s the poem I wrote yesterday when thinking of this relationship I have with her:

I wish that I could
hold you, take my
arms and wrap them
around your belly,
the circumference
of your sacredness
that has always marked
time for us. 

I wish I could pull
all your oceans toward 
me and drink from them,
becoming like the blood
that runs in your sacred
veins and guides us to the 
beating of your heart.

I wish I could whisper
to the stars, fly right up
to their pointed ears and
tell them my secrets until we
fall asleep for the night
only to wake up to the
softness of the dawn. 

I wish I could bring all
creatures together in a
big field, a ceremony,
a connection,
our feet dancing and
wings flapping to honor
the kinship that tethers us.

I wish I could take your
grief and turn it into 
compost to be given back
to every garden, so that
all that hurt could simply
alchemize back to your
already perfect goodness.

I wish I could love you
the way I’m meant to,
and here I am staring out
a window taking that one
step toward remembering
that every moment holds
the reality that I can,
and I do.

Now, we’ve got a whole month of poetry reading and writing coming up in May, and I want to paint a picture of what our expectations are in case you’re new here. Five important things to know:

1. Yes, you’ll receive an email from me every day in May. If you don’t like poetry and don’t want to to read the emails, please don’t unsubscribe! Just bear with me until May passes, and then we will be back to our usual programming. :)

2. If you think you’re not a poet, think again. You don’t have to be a perfect poet, there’s no such thing. You don’t have to rhyme a certain way or have a rhythm to your words like someone else. You just have to show up to the gift and let it show you the way. You’re certainly not obligated to share your poetry with us, but if you’d like to put them in the comments, this is the most encouraging, caring, courageous community, and we will hold you with love.

3. Make poetry writing a daily spiritual practice. Set a time each day to sit and write poetry, to reflect on the words and poems I share. Sometimes we write for the craft of writing, but that’s not what this is. This is showing up in response to what our souls are doing, asking what they need and receiving what that might be.

4. Bring in other forms of creativity! If you love to draw or paint, please bring that into your poetry! If you’re a songwriter, write a song—that is of course poetry, too. If you like to make collages, use those words to express yourself. If you need a journal and a new pen, get them now. If you need to create a spot in your home just for this practice, get it ready. This space is for us, to remember who we are and to hold one another in the chaos. Enter in however you need to.

5. Start preparing your heart now for our theme, Quiet in the Chaos. I chose this for a reason. We need to ground ourselves in the sacred tenderness of words, of images, of poetry. Begin reflecting now on what this means to you. I can’t wait to hear how poetry shows up to you next month. Honor yourself and each other in this space, and if you know of some friends who might like to join us, please invite them this week to subscribe to The Liminality Journal:

   

   ---

   And lastly friends, if anyone is in the Kensington, Maryland area, I’ll be doing an event with Jeff Chu to celebrate his new book, Good Soil, and a book or two of mine will be for sale at the event as well.

   We’ll be at St Paul’s UMC May 3rd at 10am. Come see us!

   

   Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash

   I write from a local coffee shop twice a week now, which gets me out of the house and into clothes that aren’t my pajamas (I’d forgotten how much I enjoy putting outfits together, honestly). If you don’t want to become a paid subscriber but you’d still like to support me, you can buy me a cup of coffee here. Thank you, thank you for all the love and support, always.

   See you in May, pens and journals ready!