Monday, April 15, 2013


It's been a tad funny that my blog has had very little poetry in it for the past years.  I have often felt like I  might not be accurately portraying my writing, but every time I was tempted to change the name, two things would happen:

1.   I would remind myself that I try and live poetically, so as long as I'm recording the rhythm of life the name still makes sense.


2.  I would hope for a day when I was no longer laced with fear to share my poetry, so I guess the title of my blog held a space for one of my most tender dreams.

And now it is time to do this.  I want to add a series that shares some of my poetry.  I hope to be courageous enough to share weekly at least while I share this first bit of work.

I wrote Transcendance as series of short poems years ago, during my time of infertility and so it deals with the spirituality, doubt, and reconciliation.  I wrote it in four movements:

a nature of isolation

a response to depravity

the bridge from despair to hope

hope embraced

I am purposeful in the misspelling of the piece and I have struggled with this bit of creation for a good long period of time.  I have gone back and forth trying to decide whether I wanted to add visual imagery to these words and in the end I have decided to keep it barren, as a way to honor the season in which I first began this work.  

I think that I am sharing this now because I am craving beauty and rhythm in the middle of all of the social issues tugging at my heart.  I want to start my weeks with poetry and end with photography so that I can sandwich my prose responses to the world or my recording of family life in between two bookends of beauty.  I hope this works!

So for today an introduction:

my heart

i feel myself held back by my own heart
it's beating betrays me to my humanity
reveals me broken in need of redemption
and unearths my resistance to movement

oh how i wish my beating heart would transcend
bring my living beyond my own life
capturing the rhytthm of your truth with my presence
your grace with each day i begin


Matt said...

How difficult it must be to explain the Boston bombing to children. If there was ever a time for poetry and beauty it is now.

Matt said...