A clearing poem for the disenfranchised grief of childhood woundsRead here more about this disenfranchised grief. One came from those carrying knives, they were trained
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The grief of unhealed childhood wounds In my other post, Healing in Poetry, I write about unclaimed or rejected feelings states. In this one I
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The engagement of art in therapy is an established practice dating at least back to the 1940s [1]. While we might often think first of
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I hear you speakYou do not whistle you do not roarNor whine nor blowYou rise and fallLike waves on the shoreWhat word to describe that
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I go down to the water and my mind falls stillNo thought can enter inI went with the intent to writeOn the most significant of
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I wouldn’t argue that these ‘madnesses’ manifest strictly along gendered lines, in fact I would argue they show in both, though maybe seen unequally. But
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I awoke one morning To a strangeness in my head Something that called clear to me As I lay upon my bed Words spoken soft
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Some days I awakenUnsettled and shakenAnd I know it is not a day like any otherBut a day for retreatA day on which I need
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