Seeking words of comfort and hope
I didn't 'get' poetry before, now I'm holding words close. And I wrote one for you, Grandma.
Hello you,
Do you have words of comfort that you turn to in difficult times?
I’ll be honest, poetry has never been my go to. I’ve always found it to be a world with a high wall around it which I couldn’t see over.
It is only very recently that I have finally found my way in.
During recent stormy times, poetry has given me a place to shelter.
Reading poems aloud has been a way to slow myself down and soothe my nervous system. Poets and poems have given me hope and a reminder that I will be okay.
’s collection WHERE HOPE COMES FROM: POEMS OF RESILIENCE, HEALING AND LIGHT has been by my side.I’ve reached for it many times and spoken out the verses.
This one in particular I keep going back to. Reasons to Live Through the Apocalypse
This week I even wrote my own version. If I thought of it as writing a list, rather than ‘a poem’, I could quieten down the imposter syndrome.
The day after I wrote my list, my phone rang very early in the morning. I braced myself for something but I didn’t know what.
It was something.
My Grandma Phyl had died.
So I wrote a new list. One for her.
Grandma
The tightest hugs. Music. The Wizard of Oz. Scrumptious smells of your cooking. Walks. Your comfy shoulder. Singing. The library. Your handwriting. Cheekiness. Trips and adventures. Music exams. Words you taught me; contemplative. Nostalgic chats. Your turn of phrase. Stillness. Calm. Feeling seen and special. Your briefcase. Christmas. Boxing Day. Sarcasm. Pride. Your coats. Leave a penny on the side. Photo albums. Gatherings. The coal fire. Your ornaments. Crinkle-eyed smiles. Laughing. Safety. Warmth. Your house. My happy place. Love.
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You might like to try writing your own list inspired by Nikita Gill’s Reasons to Live Through the Apocalypse. Then you might like to try reading it aloud to yourself.
Or if you have a poem of hope that you’d be willing to share below, I’d love to add it to my collection.
Janelle x
I too am saddened to hear about your sorrow for your grandmother, Janelle. And I too wonder if you've read Mary Oliver? Her voice speaks to me - and so so many - about sorrow and loss and beauty and joy and finding our place in the world.
Here's her Wild Geese, just in case you've never read it.
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
So sorry to read of the passing of your beloved grandma, Janelle. Sending you a big warm hug 🧡. Such a sweet poem you wrote for her. It mirrors the love-filled, warm, and amazing human she was and the relationship you two shared. She will forever live on in your heart and memories.
Then I am stunned and inspired by your way of looking at writing your own poems. Writing a list rather than overthinking the term ‚poem‘. Thank you so much for sharing that wisdom. ✨💫✨