It turned out so tender, Abigail.🩷 It reminds me a little bit of Kenosis by Luci Shaw. You and I have chatted how we love that poem. I see that same contrast of tender babe and harsh realities of being our victor. But the added effect of a lullaby just sends me. 💓
I'm still in the country of the sick and having a hard time connecting emotionally with Advent. Haven't been to church since Christ the King and Advent doesn't feel real. But I'm grateful for Advent poems for the small nudges into that space. I love your description of feeling like you were just remembering a song. Also the toddler art.
I'm so sorry to hear sickness is still going through your house, Melanie. Praying right now for you all and especially your son who has been battling so much illness this season. I agree that it's hard to get in the spirit of the season without going to church, which is so good and right really. I'm grateful that this poem and the others here can help usher your heart into that space, as you say. (Love that word nudge!) It seems like a new season is happening in my writing where I don't belabor every poem for weeks and years. Something playful and almost effortless is happening, and I'm trying not to analyze it too much, but this felt very much like writing our ekphrastic poems where we just notice and listen and play with the language without thinking our entire writing career is at stake. Thank you for your voice here and for all you have done in the past year to help me grow as a poet.
Thank you for your prayers. I had a real moment of grace this morning and a gift of acceptance for the slowness of this time. God has shown me how to receive it not as a burden but as a sabbatical, a retreat, a time set apart for a kind of physically-enforced being rather than doing. I think maybe I and my children all needed a break and I have been unwilling to let go. So this is God's way of giving me what I need. Just like my day of sickness in Rome, when I needed to slow down and physical illness was the way God used to get my attention. I guess I can see a pattern here. Discernment is grace. I pray that we will all receive graces in a slower advent season of sickness, being brought to the simple physical awareness of the limitations of bodies.
I love this sense of a new season of playfulness in your poetry! What a beautiful gift. There is something incredibly special here in this community of writers, all of us calling each other into new ways of writing and being, growing beyond ourselves. So much grace. Thank you for walking with me and encouraging me along the path and for sharing your journey. I am so enjoying these conversations about the art and craft of poetry, about the processes of composition and revision, about the writing life. It all feels so amazingly encouraging and generative.
Oh Melanie, this is beautiful. We need that Sabbath rest. Your faith-filled perspective is such a blessing. I am continuing to pray for healing for all of you. Your note made me tear up. Especially when you said our community “feels so amazingly encouraging and regenerative.” It truly does. I feel so blessed to be your Substack friend.
What a lovely poem. The refrain reminds me of a mixture of Christmas carols but no single one in particular!
By the way, you might have figured it out already, but the above message is probably from an AI account. I’m starting to notice this exact comment popping up everywhere…
Thank you for reading and for leaving such a lovely comment, Wein Lau. It was such a blessing to write this poem. Those sorts of vague comments asking for a subscribe that don't mention anything about my actual poem or substack always make me very suspicious. I try to respond politely on the off chance that a real person is behind the AI-generated comment, but it's so tricky. Once I muted someone who I was certain was an AI bot because the comment made no sense, and then that person has ended up being a real person that tons of people restack in all my feeds. Oops! I think that particular person does use AI, but they are a real person, so I was glad I hadn't done anything other than mute them. I wish there was a way to have a Substack setting that automatically filtered out all the AI writing.
It turned out so tender, Abigail.🩷 It reminds me a little bit of Kenosis by Luci Shaw. You and I have chatted how we love that poem. I see that same contrast of tender babe and harsh realities of being our victor. But the added effect of a lullaby just sends me. 💓
Thank you for all your help with it! I am honored that the tenderness of it reminds you of Kenosis. Thank you, friend.
This is lovely, Abigail.
I'm still in the country of the sick and having a hard time connecting emotionally with Advent. Haven't been to church since Christ the King and Advent doesn't feel real. But I'm grateful for Advent poems for the small nudges into that space. I love your description of feeling like you were just remembering a song. Also the toddler art.
I'm so sorry to hear sickness is still going through your house, Melanie. Praying right now for you all and especially your son who has been battling so much illness this season. I agree that it's hard to get in the spirit of the season without going to church, which is so good and right really. I'm grateful that this poem and the others here can help usher your heart into that space, as you say. (Love that word nudge!) It seems like a new season is happening in my writing where I don't belabor every poem for weeks and years. Something playful and almost effortless is happening, and I'm trying not to analyze it too much, but this felt very much like writing our ekphrastic poems where we just notice and listen and play with the language without thinking our entire writing career is at stake. Thank you for your voice here and for all you have done in the past year to help me grow as a poet.
Thank you for your prayers. I had a real moment of grace this morning and a gift of acceptance for the slowness of this time. God has shown me how to receive it not as a burden but as a sabbatical, a retreat, a time set apart for a kind of physically-enforced being rather than doing. I think maybe I and my children all needed a break and I have been unwilling to let go. So this is God's way of giving me what I need. Just like my day of sickness in Rome, when I needed to slow down and physical illness was the way God used to get my attention. I guess I can see a pattern here. Discernment is grace. I pray that we will all receive graces in a slower advent season of sickness, being brought to the simple physical awareness of the limitations of bodies.
I love this sense of a new season of playfulness in your poetry! What a beautiful gift. There is something incredibly special here in this community of writers, all of us calling each other into new ways of writing and being, growing beyond ourselves. So much grace. Thank you for walking with me and encouraging me along the path and for sharing your journey. I am so enjoying these conversations about the art and craft of poetry, about the processes of composition and revision, about the writing life. It all feels so amazingly encouraging and generative.
Oh Melanie, this is beautiful. We need that Sabbath rest. Your faith-filled perspective is such a blessing. I am continuing to pray for healing for all of you. Your note made me tear up. Especially when you said our community “feels so amazingly encouraging and regenerative.” It truly does. I feel so blessed to be your Substack friend.
"Softly as a star ablaze / shrinks the darkness of night's gaze." 🤍
Thank you for reading and restacking, friend. I love hearing the lines that stood out to you. I think those are my favorite too.
What a lovely poem. The refrain reminds me of a mixture of Christmas carols but no single one in particular!
By the way, you might have figured it out already, but the above message is probably from an AI account. I’m starting to notice this exact comment popping up everywhere…
Thank you for reading and for leaving such a lovely comment, Wein Lau. It was such a blessing to write this poem. Those sorts of vague comments asking for a subscribe that don't mention anything about my actual poem or substack always make me very suspicious. I try to respond politely on the off chance that a real person is behind the AI-generated comment, but it's so tricky. Once I muted someone who I was certain was an AI bot because the comment made no sense, and then that person has ended up being a real person that tons of people restack in all my feeds. Oops! I think that particular person does use AI, but they are a real person, so I was glad I hadn't done anything other than mute them. I wish there was a way to have a Substack setting that automatically filtered out all the AI writing.