Thank you for your feedback, Laura! I had originally ended the poem there to make it more dramatic but then decided to leave you with the spine of the story on the plate.
This is such a stunning poem, Danii. I feel the way it flowed through you as I read it. My heart has been especially tender this week and these words landed in the right place 💛
Thank you for this Danii--it is beautiful and what I needed to hear. 'The light that was never withdrawn" I am super in my feels right now and after reading yours I wrote a whole other poem which helped me to name all the things. I will add another comment with it.
So...I wrote a whole other poem and maybe I will make that one into a post like I had planned and link it tomorrow. But, after a day, and reading Danii's poem in the comments, I wrote a whole other poem. It might not be good. But it sure was cathartic. Thank you to anyone who reads it.
The Weight of It
The way that everyone wants to be inclusive
As long as it is not inconvenient;
The way that people stop and stare
When he gets too close or echoes too loudly.
The way that we may never just get to go
To the symphony and call it a win.
The way that sometimes I wonder If a physical deformity might make it easier—
Mark us, undeniably, as "other"—
Until I remember that people are who they are.
The way that I can’t ever seem to stop hoping
That people might rise.
The way that that woman made my sweet girl cry today.
The way her brain is precious too,
And it isn’t fair that she has to be the ‘easy’ one.
I love that you brought this poem here Abbie, letting it flow as you felt it come through you. There is so much tenderness here, the whole landscape of an emotion that we cross with you in each line. I feel the weight of the small cruelties of 'othering' each other when differences aren't perceived or understood. Thank you for sharing what's on your heart with us!
Beautiful poem, Kate! I love the way you turn towards 'safety in knowing' among the wildness of things at the end, how complexity unravels itself in the presence of beings that are fully themselves, allowing us to be too. Thank you for sharing this with us!
WOW. I am mesmerized by this poem, I've come back to read it a few times now. It feels like such a powerful incantation - silence of the dark, circling around the edges of the light. Thank you for sharing this!
the sprouts have not quite reached their destination
but i can feel them below inching towards salvation
really appreciate you building community through this challenge! it’s inspiring to read everyone’s creations & connect with others through this medium — hope y’all enjoy this post-sunset walk diddy ✨
I loved this poem inspired by your post-sunset walk, it's been such a joy to see the shape of poems that come to life through these weekly prompts - thank you for being here and sharing your words with us! That line 'it hurt to watch everything die' felt so tender, as if we could feel in our bodies the grief of each leaf detaching itself from the tree come winter.
I love this, Kellie - the way it flows and how you guide us to that ending. Thank you for sharing - "the way frogs pull their cloaks from their bellies' and 'the way the lost dog knows its name' are lines that spoke to me!
Love your poem. I would have loved the drama of ending on "The way she teaches me how to commit a small act of cruelty. "
Thank you for your feedback, Laura! I had originally ended the poem there to make it more dramatic but then decided to leave you with the spine of the story on the plate.
I love that last line, "The way we leave nothing left, except the curvature of the spine, fully intact."
Thank you, Corie!
A Litany of Small Cruelties
The way God is sought only in our desperation.
The way prayers are offered only after grief has arrived.
The way we reserve our embrace for the sorrowing,
as though gladness required no tending.
The way we practice love in half measures.
The way we are instructed to doubt
the testimony of our own hearts.
The way we consent, so quietly, to the dark -
not because it overcomes us, but because we forgot
to look for the light that was never withdrawn.
The way we are convinced that love is scarce,
that mercy must be earned.
And so we agree, slowly,
to smaller lives.
The way love asks only for faith,
yet we keep the door bolted from the inside.
This is such a stunning poem, Danii. I feel the way it flowed through you as I read it. My heart has been especially tender this week and these words landed in the right place 💛
Thank you for this Danii--it is beautiful and what I needed to hear. 'The light that was never withdrawn" I am super in my feels right now and after reading yours I wrote a whole other poem which helped me to name all the things. I will add another comment with it.
So...I wrote a whole other poem and maybe I will make that one into a post like I had planned and link it tomorrow. But, after a day, and reading Danii's poem in the comments, I wrote a whole other poem. It might not be good. But it sure was cathartic. Thank you to anyone who reads it.
The Weight of It
The way that everyone wants to be inclusive
As long as it is not inconvenient;
The way that people stop and stare
When he gets too close or echoes too loudly.
The way that we may never just get to go
To the symphony and call it a win.
The way that sometimes I wonder If a physical deformity might make it easier—
Mark us, undeniably, as "other"—
Until I remember that people are who they are.
The way that I can’t ever seem to stop hoping
That people might rise.
The way that that woman made my sweet girl cry today.
The way her brain is precious too,
And it isn’t fair that she has to be the ‘easy’ one.
The way that I can feel a whole landscape
Of emotions within the span of an hour;
The way that sometimes I can’t even cry
Because that would take
More than I have to give.
I love that you brought this poem here Abbie, letting it flow as you felt it come through you. There is so much tenderness here, the whole landscape of an emotion that we cross with you in each line. I feel the weight of the small cruelties of 'othering' each other when differences aren't perceived or understood. Thank you for sharing what's on your heart with us!
-The Machine-
The way I feel utterly alone.
In a marriage.
In motherhood.
In the world.
I return to the woods to feel whole.
I feel a part of the machine of the world.
There are no complexities here.
Safety in knowing how a fox will act.
Safety in knowing how the tree with sway.
Safety in knowing how the river will flow, on any given day.
I come back to feel whole.
Yes yes yes. To all of this
Beautiful poem, Kate! I love the way you turn towards 'safety in knowing' among the wildness of things at the end, how complexity unravels itself in the presence of beings that are fully themselves, allowing us to be too. Thank you for sharing this with us!
“i return to the woods to feel whole” gorgeous & resonate with this greatly 🌲
Absolutely adore this! Heavy relate. <3
Last night I shared the one I wrote straight out of my feels. Here is the other one I crafted all week: https://abbieshanahan.substack.com/p/the-cruelty-of-candles
Thank you for the prompt. 🌌Here’s mine https://open.substack.com/pub/prettythunder/p/small-cruelties?r=57gym&utm_medium=ios&shareImageVariant=overlay
WOW. I am mesmerized by this poem, I've come back to read it a few times now. It feels like such a powerful incantation - silence of the dark, circling around the edges of the light. Thank you for sharing this!
Thank you for reading so deeply 🌌
the wait has been grueling
it hurt to watch everything die
but i hear the birds chirping
faintly
i feel the sun in the sky
linger on my skin
the days are getting longer
ice melts on sidewalks
feeling grounded on the concrete
no longer slipping
& falling to my knees
i weave through the paths
hearing couples chatter
& children laugh
the sprouts have not quite reached their destination
but i can feel them below inching towards salvation
really appreciate you building community through this challenge! it’s inspiring to read everyone’s creations & connect with others through this medium — hope y’all enjoy this post-sunset walk diddy ✨
I loved this poem inspired by your post-sunset walk, it's been such a joy to see the shape of poems that come to life through these weekly prompts - thank you for being here and sharing your words with us! That line 'it hurt to watch everything die' felt so tender, as if we could feel in our bodies the grief of each leaf detaching itself from the tree come winter.
A little late, but I love this prompt and equally love Mary Oliver.
The Way
The way the hawk sits alone, or rather
the way winter does not keep her from searching.
The way the frogs pull their croaks
from their bellies,
out past the hollow
and into the world.
The way the lost dog knows its name.
The way the rain bleeds the ink.
The way the daffodils bow, heavy
with memory and still they reach.
The way we carry these temporary aches.
The way we keep calling.
The way an answer comes.
I love this, Kellie - the way it flows and how you guide us to that ending. Thank you for sharing - "the way frogs pull their cloaks from their bellies' and 'the way the lost dog knows its name' are lines that spoke to me!
Your poem evokes a sense of nostalgia and reflection, reminding us of the transient nature of life and the bittersweet memories we hold onto.
“The way she teaches me how to commit a small act of cruelty.” is sharp and memorable
Thank you Ethan - glad to know that line stays with you long after you read it!