Oh, God, my heart. (I'm here via the Via Negativa poetry blog roundup.) This is the loss we're all most afraid of, the most unimaginable. The death of a child. It's unbearable. Your words are beautiful. I hope that her departure was gentle for her. There's no sense to be made of any of it.
Your words are beautiful. We have different stories, but your description of trying to but have faith, of the tiny twig still achingly not snuffed out… just captures something true in me.
I really hope commiserating with Job is not melodramatic, but even if it is I’m totally down. Job is why I still have my faith. What a bizarre book to include unless what you’re marketing is bigger than the desperate, desperate American dream of everything “working out.” I so often have to relinquish that dream again.
This is my favorite piece you’ve written this year. Thank you so much for your vulnerable and moving words, friend. You’re a wonderful mother and writer. ❤️
What a powerful post. I'm sorry for the loss of your beautiful baby. As a person living in a bleak west tx town, this struck me the most: "How can someone look at trees and not believe?" Even the idea of trees (maybe because of their absence in my daily life?) moves me deeply. I loved your poem as well. Thank you for articulating your thoughts here.
Thank you for this. So so much. My sister died of breast cancer on November 30, 2021 and the loss, the fight before, it all broke me. I’m so grateful for someone speaking to that wild careen into the blackness, all the pieces that go flying off into the darkness and are lost when you run headlong into the concrete wall of death. And as the season draws closer, the bone ache comes up to the surface more and more.
The little ember for me is my deep hatred for death - would I hate it so much if I were not made for life? Would I be more resigned if death was actually just how it goes?
Oh, God, my heart. (I'm here via the Via Negativa poetry blog roundup.) This is the loss we're all most afraid of, the most unimaginable. The death of a child. It's unbearable. Your words are beautiful. I hope that her departure was gentle for her. There's no sense to be made of any of it.
Your words are beautiful. We have different stories, but your description of trying to but have faith, of the tiny twig still achingly not snuffed out… just captures something true in me.
I really hope commiserating with Job is not melodramatic, but even if it is I’m totally down. Job is why I still have my faith. What a bizarre book to include unless what you’re marketing is bigger than the desperate, desperate American dream of everything “working out.” I so often have to relinquish that dream again.
Grateful.
This was vulnerable and sad and beautiful. What losses! It's always good to be reminded and encouraged that without God, what do we have?
This is my favorite piece you’ve written this year. Thank you so much for your vulnerable and moving words, friend. You’re a wonderful mother and writer. ❤️
What a powerful post. I'm sorry for the loss of your beautiful baby. As a person living in a bleak west tx town, this struck me the most: "How can someone look at trees and not believe?" Even the idea of trees (maybe because of their absence in my daily life?) moves me deeply. I loved your poem as well. Thank you for articulating your thoughts here.
Thank you for this. So so much. My sister died of breast cancer on November 30, 2021 and the loss, the fight before, it all broke me. I’m so grateful for someone speaking to that wild careen into the blackness, all the pieces that go flying off into the darkness and are lost when you run headlong into the concrete wall of death. And as the season draws closer, the bone ache comes up to the surface more and more.
The little ember for me is my deep hatred for death - would I hate it so much if I were not made for life? Would I be more resigned if death was actually just how it goes?
Again, thank you - and bless you, dear.