“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” – Joan Didion
The montage plays in my head
Scenes blurred from reality
Early morning, but my thoughts
Swirl as though I have been drinking
Lost in trying to type this story
Before it leaves me, typing away
Inspired by songs filled with
Raw vulnerability, the poet of our time
Inspired me to write down half thought-out
Lines on notes that live in the cloud
One day I’ll scroll through them
And wonder why I never finished
The thought I can’t access anymore
The shadows of day dim
the light, causing the attention
to be taken elsewhere, tired of
waiting for the promised show
to go on, then failing to
see the final surprise.
Too busy talking and running
to pay attention to detail.
Audience of one,
the statues were broken
before the head appeared
taking away the fun
while no one else cared.
Grief is a funny thing.
In that there’s no one way
or right way to grieve
someone passing.
It’s not a straight line,
it’s scattered all over
the place, sometimes
it’s difficult to pick up
the pieces
to begin the process of
understanding the depth
that was left behind.
If the person was in pain,
you’re happy they’re
at peace.
If the person was wronged,
you’re left shocked
and angered by
their exit.
Emotions are felt
at peak levels
during these times.
Knowing someone has
impacted you so deeply
is the beauty and tragedy
when they pass cause
all you want and hope
is for them to know
how much
they were loved
when they were
alive.
Sometimes we lose
sight of our journeys
we can fail to see
the ways in which
we impact others.
Sometimes it takes
hearing a song
which sparks a memory
and tears to form
can we see the pieces
left behind clearly.
The ways we change
each other in this life
have significance,
it’s the most beautiful
mysteries of life,
the connections we form
that define who we are.
We know people for a
finite amount of time
here on earth, appreciate
them while they’re here.
For Grandpa Boat
Whenever I see a boat,
I think of you.
I am taken back to summer
days on the water,
I think of Minnesota.
I smell sunscreen and
wet carpet on the houseboat.
I think of my grandmother’s presence,
her ability to make everyone
feel at home even when
on the river.
I think of your black poodle
Domie running around.
I think of jumping off the boat,
cold water, golden sand,
old music, and laughter
with my cousins.
I think of Florida,
night swims, pool toys,
heavy heavy humidity.
I think of orange juice
you would have ever morning
while reading the newspaper.
I think of old movies.
I think of family trips
and game nights and drinking,
feeling overwhelmed by
so much summer sun.
I think of sunsets on the water
and swimming in the ocean.
I think of tubing, hanging on
while dad drove the boat,
enjoying the silence that came
along with flying along the water.
I think of the only time
I ever ate crème brûlée.
I think of karaoke,
singing my aunts favorite
song from her childhood.
Sweet Caroline…
I spent an afternoon surrounded by art.
Paintings and sculptures captured my attention.
Wandering around different exhibits,
I kept thinking, these artists believed
in themselves enough to be able to
share their work and have their work
make it here. I thought about the confidence
one has to have in themselves to be here.
To root for yourself enough to make
the thing that eventually is seen
by people every day. To be admired
and respected long after you’re gone
for the art to remain strong and loud,
a voice lingered long after
the last breath was taken.
A belief of lasting beauty is enough
to do the work regardless of
what anyone else will say.
I am grateful to see the sun when I get out of work.
I am grateful for the colorful skies and warmer weather.
I am grateful for long walks and slow mornings.
I am grateful for the streaks of light that brighten my day.
I am grateful for the changing season and new beginnings.
Mistakes happen
Things will be corrected
Be patient
Try not to overthink
Or drown yourself in senseless worry
You are not your scariest thought
That will not happen
Stay present
Remember to breathe
Things will be okay
The journey to love yourself isn’t easy.
It’s rough. There’s tar and scars you have to unpack.
All the patterns that you have to untangle
From your thoughts that no longer work.
The difficult memories and feelings you have
To confront in order to let go and move on.
But there’s beauty too, in discovering yourself
In all the ways that help you heal.
Breathe, little one.
It will be okay, one day.
Just wait, it will be better.
Just know
Wherever you go
Whatever you do
If you need me
I’ll be there for you
Don’t hesitate
To say how you’re feeling
We’ve been friends for so long
Time can change us
But we remain the same
Someone to talk to
A safe place to listen
To keep each other’s feelings
Without fear of judgement
This poem is a draft
One I won’t perfect
I just wanted to post this
Just know I am a call away
The rush of people
The pressure
Not to slow others down
Leaves me in shambles
As I race up the jetway
Into the terminal.
I stop to catch my breath
And realize how shallow
the air sits in my lungs.
A feeling I knew
All too well returns
Within moments of moving
Through a space
I once called home.
The stress of travel
Leaves me tired
Up thirteen hours
Only to arrive
Just before one
In the afternoon
Mountain Time.
A few days, I stabilize.
My body remembers what
It’s like to live in
A climate this high.
Kelly Severseike 