Thick, blinding fog
Rising slowly from the dark
Surrounds and fills me whole
I no longer see
My feet struggle to stand firm
Slowly my heart sinks
A spark, a fire, an eternal compass
Nudges me onward
One step, one breath
A few steps more
I fall, face first
Instinct kicks in
My hands raise me up
Dirty and broken, I catch a glimpse
Of something so precious and pure
Suddenly I’m propelled
Wings lifting my weary soul
I feel life, I see light, all around me
I know not certainty
Only in this moment:
Last weekend I had the immense pleasure of being a part of a Poetic workshop, hosted by two amazingly talented and gorgeous gals Leah Davies and Megan Gogoll.
Eight women (and my happy little munchkin Ella) gathered in a circle and shared a love of writing, the divine feminine and living from the heart. There was yoga, meditation (by Fiorella Klein, a total goddess) delicious snacks and raw, juicy poetry.
The poem above came out onto paper in only a few minutes. The less I thought about rules and rhyming and what’s right or wrong, the more it flowed. It’s about dealing with post-natal depression, something that hit me hard after my first child, and I’ve seen only in tiny glimpses since my second was born six months ago. It’s something I’m keenly aware of as I know how debilitating and frightening it can be.
But as I read the poem out loud to this group of girls, tears fell rapidly from my tired eyes. They were tears of despair for what has been, but also tears of relief for what is. I’m so grateful to be so positive and energetic as a mama of two, even though it’s been anything but easy these last few months.
Poetry, I love you. For getting in deep past my thoughts and into my emotions. For being raw and precious and silly and wondrous. For having no rules. For bringing us gals together on a sunny Saturday afternoon to laugh, love and share our hearts.