Watering Down the Damage
A brand new exclusive to Substack poem
Greetings, Friends! I’m eager to share an in-progress poem with you today, including a very messy handwritten draft, but first, a few things I’m giddy to tell you…
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FREE Dandelion Scribes Digital Poetry Collection
I’m excited to share that I am the featured poet in this free Dandelion Scribes digital poetry collection titled Poems of the Spirit, devoted to exploring spirituality in all its forms.
Back in the spring, I submitted several of my poems to Dandelion Scribes, an East Tennessee and Kentucky based poetry collective, for an upcoming edition they were curating titled Poems for the Revolution. Editor-in-Chief Cheyanne Leonardo kindly replied to let me know that the five poems I had submitted - while not the best fit for the current theme - had inspired her to produce a future edition of the poetry publication focused on how we explore spirituality through poetry. I was absolutely delighted.
As a kid who chaffed at going to church and as an adult who discovered that organized religion is no longer the best sort of spiritual home for me (while of course respecting those who find resonance within those traditions), I never imagined that anyone would be interested in reading my creative explorations of reclaiming my own spiritual path, so being included in this collection means more than I can express.
Head over to Dandelion Scribes to read the whole digital collection, featuring many new-to-me poets whom I am grateful to be getting to know.
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Custom Poetry Commissions
Good news! I have a few spots open for poetry commissions this summer, so if you have been curious about crafting a custom poem for someone you love (even if that someone is you!), I’d cherish the chance to support you in this way. What does a custom poem look like? Glad you asked! You can read a sample custom poem about a beloved family garden here and one about a beloved dog here.
If you are feeling ready to get started co-creating a poem that captures what’s currently on your heart, or you know someone who would love to speak their feelings through a poem, send me a note at theperpetualvisitor at gmail dot com.
This week’s poem was inspired by a conversation I had recently with someone dear to me, and attempts to say something true about the human need to be heard and seen just as you are, with no fixing or figuring out needed.
I find that it’s a default mode of mine (and others) to try and take away the trouble, the heartache, the plain awfulness of it all in certain moments of struggle, and I know this comes from a well-intentioned place. Yet, it’s surprising how unsatisfying this attempt to fix (and be fixed) can be, and again and again, I find myself bowled over by the relief that is possible when someone is willing to validate just how terrible I might feel in the present moment, and instead of watering down the damage, simply acknowledge just how excruciating the heat of heartache is in this moment.
This poem is in progress, and I’m toying around with two different versions. Just for fun, I’m also including the handwritten draft that I’ve been scribbling away at in my journal. Sometimes a poem comes to me fully formed, while other times (like this time), it’s a gradual chipping away, of discerning through the verbal and emotional fog, and of trying on different words and phrases until something strikes me as fitting just right.
I’d love to hear which version resonates with you, if you are willing to share in the comments.
As always, I hope you read something you love, and if you do, that you might be willing to share this post with someone you love.
Untitled Heat Poem, Version 1
I have trod eons over scorched earth,
the soles of my shoes thin and blistered
(I feel it all)
desperate to find a savior
able
willing
to put out the fire.
*
What if
what I need
is someone
to sit with me ‘round the blaze as it burns,
(crisping our patience to cinders)
to no longer lie to me about the heat?
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Untitled Heat Poem, Version 2
I have walked this scorched Earth
like a labyrinth
for eons,
blistered,
wringing the hands of everyone I meet,
desperate:
“Might you cool the flames?”
*
Some say, “Yes.”
*
Still, it sears. Rages.
*
What if
what I need
is someone
to sit with me ‘round the blaze as it burns,
(crisping our patience to cinders)
to no longer lie to me about the heat?
Lastly, here’s the working handwritten draft that I’m still adding bits and bobs to:
I love both versions! My favorite line is the last one, "to no longer lie to me about the heat."