Held

 

I had my first full reading from In the Currents of Quiet a few days ago. I scheduled it on purpose during what I call 'weird week'. Two birthdays (including mine) and two anniversaries of deaths all in one week. It felt so good to weave together pieces and let the words find their way to listeners. Thoughtful, insightful questions were asked and answered. Joy, love, and healing were present. Beginning again... again.

I also did two in person signings - one the day of the reading and one the next day (yesterday). A few people came and bought books on the first day - past students, someone I had worked with, a old acquaintance who just happened by. Wonderful conversations and connections. Yesterday, however, I sat there swatting black flies for an hour and a half... and the bones of this poem formed.

So many aspects of my life and healing converged for this to emerge. I do believe that my books will continue to find hands and hearts that will appreciate and benefit from them. I love sharing my work and hearing how it resonates with others. There's never a question to that. But, it feels so liberating to simply appreciate what this process means to me, to allow myself comfort in being the important one as I sit with pencil in hand...

 Held

Pencil in hand
I pause,
breathe, allow,
know to let words
simply flow as they may,
as they have so many times
over these past years.
Early on they came
            in a quickening,
                        poured forth
                            as grief
                                                    opened the way.
More often now
there’s a gentle tug and
            they come in
                                peaceful currents
as images, perceptions
flicker
                 and flutter
until a clear reflection presents.
There’s an enjoyable aspect
 of wordplay
as my sweet wild child’s
poetic purity
                darts
                 and dances
until she feels heard.
When I write
I feel held,
            buoyant,
                        limitless,
            suspended.
Waters meet sky,
dark and light mingle,
and it matters not
who else might listen.

Sarah Carlson
May 28, 2021

 

Smothered No Longer

 Smothered No Longer

The wounds of grief,
whatever the origin,
need not be fully defined
as dark,
though that does
loom large early on.
Given space
to express and honor,
explore and heal,
one gains the opening
to transmute.
There is potential
to access
diffusing Light,
branching awareness,
currents of quiet peace.
When grief bursts come now
I know what to do:
Allow,
    speak,
        cry,    
                    remember,
                    love…
                            me.
                            Breathe,
                    ponder,
                recover,
      hold,
be…
me.
What sweet relief it is
to have my grief
smothered no longer.
What dawning joy
I discern
 by granting it
with Love.

Sarah Carlson
May 14, 2021

I'll Hold You, Too

Photo by Emma Carlson

 

Happy Mother's Day on my first one as Oma.

 I’ll Hold You, Too

Unsettled,
you are in need
of comfort.
I speak quiet words
of encouragement
and love.
Slowly and steadily
your  body relaxes
and you nestle
into my arms,
tiny fingers
wrapped around
one of mine.
Once again I drift back
to days of mothering.
Precious moments of
holding my babies,
calming their unease,
soothing their tears,
basking in wholesome love shared
with them and their sweet dad.
A tender sigh brings me
back to you,
your contented breath
and gentle holding.
I’m so very happy
that I get
to hold you, too.

Sarah Carlson
May 9, 2021

Finding Oneself in Solitude

 

Finding Oneself in Solitude

Long stretches of time
alone
in the past year or so,
though challenging,
have allowed much to come
to light.
Unfettered recognition of
                                        illusion,
                               pain,
                            strength,
                 truth.
Uneasy wonderings of
    who remembers,
                where to fit,
                            what is next
                                                                when, how, if to re-emerge.
     Sometimes so clear,
 other times

                                                      just out of focus.

Branching moments
 of suspension 

create currents of
 gratitude for love let in,
                    comfort in quiet company,
                                     hope of candid connection.
                            Valid,
                   vital,
                    revealing,
            redeeming –
finding oneself
in solitude.

Sarah Carlson

May 2, 2021