Patching Grief with Poetry
A haiku to hold space
Hullo my lovely readers
A content note for (brief) discussion of grief
Thank you sincerely for your supportive responses to my last letter in honour of Nabil Shaban – I hope he would be as touched, and grateful, as I am.
This letter is a very brief one, posted today partly because of the resonance of this transitional period between October and November with regards to remembrance across many cultures – but mostly because, on a personal level, I have to pick my dates carefully around now.
The last week of October has been steeped in grief since childhood, but this year it is freshly so. So, paying heed to Leonato’s caution not to ‘patch grief with proverbs’1 I’m giving myself the grace of honesty – and time – and offering a haiku to hold space until I’m back to longer letters. Along with an abstract image inspired by the candles I’ve lit for the now three special souls whose memory I mark at this juncture, before yet more next week.
The grief held here is A heavy light; losses lit By, fashioned from, love
Thank you so much for reading, take care of yourselves and one another, and love and solidarity until next time,
Jx
(Much Ado About Nothing, Act V, sc. i, l. 2085)
(my initial comment disappeared, I hope one sticks around)
I was looking at my phone the moment the Substack notification appeared about this newsletter, this haiku and drawing (!!). A bit of joy arrived with it, despite the title, as it brought hope of one of your poems to read, and that poetry was providing some balm for your soul. Yet again my friend, I marvel at how your words come together, whether 3 lines and 13 words, a 14 line sonnet or any other collection. I was able to read immediately, and then kept the haiku and drawing on my screen to keep reading, keep looking at, keep pondering and feeling. It's a beautiful poem that captures so much - thank you for sharing it. So much candle light in your life, in this past week, and in the days to come - I'm imagining the beauty of the light and the lives and people you're honoring and remembering. The drawing is striking, including the idea that they can be both separate flames and/or joining together.
Take all the space, time and grace that feels right, my friend.
(Also, the concept of a period of time being “steeped in grief” was my reason to edit this comment because I can’t believe I didn’t mention it - what a packed phrase, woah. As a daily tea drinker and someone who encounters death far too often - though mostly in ways different than you do - this one will really stay with me, and go places with me too.)
Beautiful and entirely apt. Sending lots of love.