Much has been written about the negative impact of Covid-19 on our lives: sickness, loss, uncertainty.
I’ve decided to flip that and try to find some good.
This is difficult. I know people who’ve died from this disease, lost loved ones, suffered through its symptoms.
Finding good is hard.
But for the sake of sanity, and because I want to hold on to light, even when there appears to be only darkness, I’m taking a moment to look at the good — the things I found myself thankful for in the moment, and am thankful for still.
I remember when…
“Don’t come home pregnant.”
This is the kind of stuff she used to say to me, usually just before I went out, regardless of where I might be going. To the store. To school. To the next door neighbor’s house. On a date. The command to my ovaries was ever and always present: Thou shalt neither be fruitful nor multiply while living in this house.
It was the look that did it. Like most mothers back in the day, mine had an all-encompassing, notably compelling look that let me know she meant exactly what she’d said and she had no…
A poet lived here
alone and free
singing longings loudly
like a lonely muse
A poet walked here
bravely and alive
fearless of dark nights and smoldering hopes
soothed by cold light sparked at dawn
A poet breathed here
fired words like smolten beings
untrussed and blown from the ash
of lesser sons
A poet spoke here once
wise-like and true
like a mother to a newborn —
I will not leave you nor forsake the others
A poet danced here
bones alive and clacking
demanding the audience witness the weight
of wondrously goaded words
A poet bore revelation here…
Not for nothing did I love you
build a life on your word
believing it solid as the sky
Not for nothing did I sing you
like a song of new lyrics
sighed into life
Not for nothing did I see you
distressed by dreams delayed
like lightning coming long after rain
Not for nothing did I trigger you
hollow point words
aimed at the softest spot
Not for nothing did I let you
drain us like sun on snow
willing new shoots to form
Not for nothing did I bring you
here into the light
after the dust of…
The artist stands before the canvas. Blank eyes to blank page.
Blinking cursor blinking, daring to see
who will draw first blood.
The artist strikes the first stroke, determined to place a word just so.
Create a new world solely fueled by the power
of an endless mind.
The stroke is wrong, the artist thinks, and wipes the world away.
Cursing blinking cursor and its infinite power
to give and relentlessly take.
Stroke two and a new world appears. Braver, stronger.
The power is awesome. No one can create like this. …
Ah Valentine’s Day! A time of hearts and magic and madness, where everyone around you seems deeply in love and deeply committed to showing everyone how deeply in love they are.
And this year, thankfully, so are you!
At least on the outside.
Because the truth, the real truth that you’ve been denying to everyone, including yourself, is something different.
The truth is that your relationship is a mess.
And you’re decision to ignore the mess isn’t making it any less of a mess.
Your hope that things would somehow change between the two of you — because it’s magical…
I’m being pushed out of my home. Forced, actually, against my will.
I’ve used every tactic to stay, including hiding in this pool. But her mind is made up. She wants me out.
She’s screaming now. I’m not moving fast enough. Her patience is gone.
Others scream at me too, demanding my exit. As if my being here wasn’t her doing.
I cannot fight them all, nor remain submerged. I must breathe… now!
A gush upends me. Some kind of god swaddles me.
Then I see her for the first time.
Yes, I think. She’ll be a good mother.
A response to this challenge:
noon silent like midnight
as if they agreed to trade places
without telling me
streets shorn of cars
no honking here to break
the stillness of sun
songs discarded by birds
unwilling to spoil
my melancholy view
we are all of us here
A response to this prompt:
Welcome to Just Ask Stacy, a sort of weekly advice column where you can ask about whatever you need help with (life, career, relationships, why Emily is in Paris, whatever), and I’ll answer because I’m ignoring the pile of work on my desk. I’d much rather be helping you sort out your life.
Here’s why I started doing this:
So let’s get to it, shall we?
For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been sharing some resources with writers in varying stages of their careers and I want to share them with you. I’m not affiliated with any of these…