What I’ve Learned from the Dark

A POEM FOR YOUR THURSDAY & INTRODUCING "SUNDAY SPARKS"

During these pouring & howling times, my hope for you is that you are making time to slow, to soften, to sip, to savor the beauty that is still very much here (in spite of whatever smallness is playing itself out in the world).

In my little corner of the world, daffodils, daphne, tulips, camas, lilac, fawn lily, trillium, etc…are blooming, the cherry & magnolia trees are blossoming like crazy, there are a few (very welcomed) glimmers of sunshine here and there.

Thank you so much for inviting me into your inbox. Your here-ness matters so very much.

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Introducing Sunday Spark

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As a little something extra & as a special, thank you to my paid subscribers…

Each Sunday, beginning this Sunday, April 13th (which happens to be my beautiful daughter, Marielle’s 23rd birthday), I will send out a short audio (5-ish minutes) of me reading a poem from my book Staying in Love.

Included in the audio, I will offer a prompt to spark your writing & guidance on writing practice, Write Yourself Free style.

This will be a poetic nudge to begin your week, with a focus on Staying in Love, a little “Sunday Spark” to support you in getting some ink on the page.

I’m looking forward to connecting with you in this way!

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I’ll leave you with a poem from my book Staying in Love.

With an abundance of love & gratitude,

Julia xo

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Photo by Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash

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What I’ve Learned from the Dark

It seems we must be stripped of the skin
of all we think beautiful before we open
to the kind of beauty that can’t go away—

it seems sky must pour and howl like it will never stop
before we notice the smile
of our own forever sun. It seems

we must hunt with starving,
hungry eyes before we know
this belly is and has always been
full. It seems this wall
deep in the center must be hammered down
before we let soft, breathing hands
curl in around us. Each drop

of dark carries with it a candle of holy
light—with each miracle breath
we are invited to turn toward
the nearest whispering spark
and, like mama bird
sheltering her baby, like pebble
in stream’s safe lap

listen.

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