(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.)
Oh dear friend, thank you so much for this (far too generous) response. Not least because, since I am not a tea drinker (possibly sacrilege to admit as someone who would be identified through my accent as British, though that isn't entirely accurate as a designation of my heritage), I hadn't intended, or indeed even noticed, the connection with "steeped". As ever, our friendship is making me think deeply. I'm also touched that you noticed the multiple resonances of the candles.
(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.)
Oh dear friend, thank you so much for this (far too generous) response. Not least because, since I am not a tea drinker (possibly sacrilege to admit as someone who would be identified through my accent as British, though that isn't entirely accurate as a designation of my heritage), I hadn't intended, or indeed even noticed, the connection with "steeped". As ever, our friendship is making me think deeply. I'm also touched that you noticed the multiple resonances of the candles.
Beautiful and entirely apt. Sending lots of love.
Thank you sincerely, dear friend. Lots of love right back to you.