Search Results for: wriourswhomo

WriOursWhoMo – April Poems: Rae Armantrout’s “Scumble”

What happens if there are new names for this thing that used to be known as failed or broken or lost. How do we bring play back into the things we call ourselves? Continue reading

WriOursWhoMo – April Poems: “Girl” and “[asking]”

We are lunging for wonder again, the shock of yellow petals against the brown branch, against the brown grasses, against the brown morning. The forsythia is nestled over baby’s breath, over history and loss, and yet her color is a shock of hope. Continue reading

WriOursWhoMo – April Poems: Mary Oliver’s “Starlings in Winter”

We don’t have to forget what has harmed us in order to continue to live – I don’t believe we even have to forgive. But we can slowly turn our attention away from the memory, from the history, from the wound, to the candle flickering in her glass jar, to the robin making her way across the morning lawn, to the puppy’s sleeping breaths and the strength we carry every minute of every day in our skin and in our hearts. Sometimes joy is the most dangerous thing. Continue reading

WriOursWhoMo – April Poems: Dorianne Laux’s “Antilamentation”

What if we give ourselves just that brief moment, just the length of reading and the heartbeats of silence afterward, to regret nothing. Not to celebrate, maybe – but to imagine ourselves not being regretful, not being made of regret, full of empty space and stupid decisions. We give ourselves just this secret time, deep inside ourselves, to be grateful for every breath, for all we have learned and all we have yet to learn, to be easy with ourselves for what is still hard, for all that lives in us still unsaid, still undone, still longed for. Continue reading

WriOursWhoMo – April Poems: Marci Calabretta Cancio-Bello’s “In the Animal Garden of My Body”

I can’t think about forgiveness as anything but a practice, a kind of course correction. Sometimes I have a moment, a hair’s-breadth, when I can see the day clearly and know that I am forgiven and know that I am free. Continue reading

WriOursWhoMo – April Poems: Robert Bly’s Things to Think

If I let these thoughts in, I couldn’t keep living the way I’d been living, but I also felt so stuck that I couldn’t see any other way forward for me. There’s a kind of death in those moments, in the shedding of a long-worn skin, in the breaking of the glass that surrounds us when we are held in thrall to an idea or story about ourselves. Continue reading

WriOursWhoMo – April Poems: Sheila Nickerson’s Fairy Tale

It is a frightening thing when the wild in us, wild that we have tried to civilize and shunt away, reasserts itself, when we wake with an animal rage or grief or joy. Why are we still taught to fear our wildness, our feathers and fur, our sharp teeth and claws? Continue reading

Celebrate WriOursWhoMo with your own writing!

What better way to honor Writing Ourselves Whole Month than by giving yourself the opportunity to let your own words flow. Come and join us at one of our many writing spaces. Here’s our upcoming schedule: One-with-One, Private Writing Sessions    … Continue reading

Poem for a Friday – “if it’s not a secret”

My hands are covered with dirt, and my laptop is dusted with flour. These are good signs, I think. A poem I love for this second Friday of WriOursWhoMo. Consider using that last line as a prompt… Bodyweight -Matthew Schwartz

What sort of intersection are you?

Good morning, writers! Outside my window right now, construction workers are jackhammering pavement. The birds have all gone silent, with or some other, more difficult emotion, maybe. The city is all city sounds right now. How is WriOursWhoMo treating you … Continue reading