I have been in a word rut. Yet there are so many things that I
want to say have to say but my brain is exhausted from the draining work of grad school, particularly thesis writing. For months, I have been writing and then rewriting a blog post which I will soon release. But for now–I’m just not ready.
Until then, I offer you prose/poems by Q. Gibson and Nayyirah Waheed that have given me the tools to begin to write about this current chapter of my life.
“Losing someone or something you love isn’t always a loss. The pain teaches you how to go on, how to look up, and how to survive moments where you may have very well believed you’d never breathe past your last breath together. And whether that last breath is bedside, or bottled in a kiss, or spat into a raging midnight air–you realize in time your lungs grow accustomed to surviving these types of losses. You learn to breathe on your own more clearly and lightly. Darling, you learn. And that in itself is never a loss.”
“Some wounds do heal if you stop picking at the surface.”
I have lost millions and millions
of words to fear.
tell me that is not violence
who held you
when you wanted someone else
‘my absence is strong and warm.
it will hold
it will teach you how to miss.
how to be without.
how to survive anyway.’
-how my father raised me
So if you haven’t already guessed it, my mysterious post will be about romantic love and familial love, specifically about my most recent ex and my father. I am also planning to write Mom’s Lessons in Love No. 4 sometime this month or next. I know that I left it at a bit of a cliffhanger last year but that period of my life is still difficult to talk about, let alone write. So we shall see.
Until the next time,