I fully agree with Rhaine and Nan - this is beautiful! The power of verse is so perfect here, amplifying the layers of your grieving process. Thank you for sharing it.
Thank you for that reflection. Writing about grief with my prose seems inadequate at best and silly at worst. Somehow, poetry seems to do it greater justice.
In this fast moving world, words to sit with in being with grief. So very beautiful, Jess. "It is not surprising that when a rare human like Andrea returns to the earth, there is a churning that happens, their essence too big for the space, their arms free to play in the dirt. These words are what arose for me."
I think that's the irony, Rhaine. I rarely sit. In fact, I intentionally run. But grief is the one thing I've never been able to escape, or, at least, this particular grief. I believe that's probably a good thing. Thank you for reading.
This is so beautiful, Jess. I haven't read the stories about you and your mom, but I'd like to. And I'm interested in reading your book as well, so I'll get in touch with you about that. You're such a wonderful writer. Grief teaches us so well, if we are open to its messages. xo
Thank you for that kind compliment, Nan. I've always found grief to be one of the only teachers I'll listen to. Maybe because I have no choice. Would love to send you a copy of The Pilgrimage of Motherhood so you can read my story. Just let me know where to send. 🧡
This feels like a smooth round stone in my heart, Jess - somehow both a comfort and a mystery, a weight that burdens and grounds in equal measure. I am glad you found the courage to share your profound words. I am sorry for the loss that inspired them. 💜
I love that you found some comfort in these words. They bring me some comfort too. Maybe its just finding a way to say them. And maybe its knowing they're still there. I think I fear losing my grief, like if I somehow recover too much, I'll lose my connection to my mother and to anyone I've grieved. Knowing how much is still under my feet to dig up reminds me that I'm grounded in them permanently, and that feels like a comforting thing. Thanks for reading.
Yesterday, I wrote my first poem in years. I've been hiding from processing my mother's death earlier this year but something struck me yesterday. Your story in Pilgrimage to Motherhood resonated with me so deeply and actually inspired me to start my own substack to get these words out of me. So, thank you 💜.
Oh Brittany. Thank you so much for sharing this with me. 🧡 I am sincerely sorry to hear about your mother’s passing and grateful that you came here to let the words fall out. I look forward to learning more of your story.
I fully agree with Rhaine and Nan - this is beautiful! The power of verse is so perfect here, amplifying the layers of your grieving process. Thank you for sharing it.
Thank you for that reflection. Writing about grief with my prose seems inadequate at best and silly at worst. Somehow, poetry seems to do it greater justice.
In this fast moving world, words to sit with in being with grief. So very beautiful, Jess. "It is not surprising that when a rare human like Andrea returns to the earth, there is a churning that happens, their essence too big for the space, their arms free to play in the dirt. These words are what arose for me."
I think that's the irony, Rhaine. I rarely sit. In fact, I intentionally run. But grief is the one thing I've never been able to escape, or, at least, this particular grief. I believe that's probably a good thing. Thank you for reading.
This is so beautiful, Jess. I haven't read the stories about you and your mom, but I'd like to. And I'm interested in reading your book as well, so I'll get in touch with you about that. You're such a wonderful writer. Grief teaches us so well, if we are open to its messages. xo
Thank you for that kind compliment, Nan. I've always found grief to be one of the only teachers I'll listen to. Maybe because I have no choice. Would love to send you a copy of The Pilgrimage of Motherhood so you can read my story. Just let me know where to send. 🧡
I’d love that! Thank you, I’l send you my info. xo
Wow, your poem gave me chills. Absolutely beautiful raw emotion. I'm sorry for your loss and am honored to hear about it. Thank you for sharing
Thank you for sharing your reaction. I think grief, when expressed honestly, hits us like that. My work is to continue not to shy away from it.
This feels like a smooth round stone in my heart, Jess - somehow both a comfort and a mystery, a weight that burdens and grounds in equal measure. I am glad you found the courage to share your profound words. I am sorry for the loss that inspired them. 💜
I love that you found some comfort in these words. They bring me some comfort too. Maybe its just finding a way to say them. And maybe its knowing they're still there. I think I fear losing my grief, like if I somehow recover too much, I'll lose my connection to my mother and to anyone I've grieved. Knowing how much is still under my feet to dig up reminds me that I'm grounded in them permanently, and that feels like a comforting thing. Thanks for reading.
Gorgeous, Jess. I am a true believer that what pours out of the soul is often the most real. This poem was real.
Definitely couldn’t have come from anywhere else. Thank you Jeannie. 🙏
Yesterday, I wrote my first poem in years. I've been hiding from processing my mother's death earlier this year but something struck me yesterday. Your story in Pilgrimage to Motherhood resonated with me so deeply and actually inspired me to start my own substack to get these words out of me. So, thank you 💜.
Oh Brittany. Thank you so much for sharing this with me. 🧡 I am sincerely sorry to hear about your mother’s passing and grateful that you came here to let the words fall out. I look forward to learning more of your story.