Adonis, From Desire Moving Through Maps Of Matter (tr. Khaled Mattawa) / Valarie Kaur, See No Stranger:

Adonis, from “Desire Moving Through Maps of Matter” (tr. Khaled Mattawa) / Valarie Kaur, See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love / Kahlil Gibran, from “On Joy and Sorrow” / Adonis, from “Desire Moving Through Maps of Matter” (tr. Khaled Mattawa) / Naomi Shihab Nye, from “Kindness”

Hello!!! I just found your blog and I love it so much!!! I love that you have such a wonderful library of poetry and literature 💕 poetry is the best way to connect our heart into concrete terms and can help us through the worst of it all. I love the whole feel of your blog!! You are a gift 💕 I’ve seen a few people ask for some poems, and if I may, I’d like to request for a few from your vast collection on how love never really dies. I recently went through a really peaceful break up and I’ve been trying to cope with that fact that I’m not angry at him and that I’m never not going to love him. I need some poetry for my aching heart. Thank you if you are able to, love! I hope you have a lovely day 💕

— John Berger, Will it be a Likeness? from The Shape of a Pocket

— John Cage to Merce Cunningham, June 29 1943

— Adonis, Selected Poems; “Beginnings of the Body, Ends of the Sea” (tr. Khaled Mattawa)

“But whatever, whenever, however this ends / I want you to know right now, / I love you forever.”

— Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase; “How It Ends”

— Mary Oliver, from “Mysteries, yes”

“someone I love is praying in another language / I don’t know all the words but I know / what it means—”

— Linnette Reeman, from “The New Jersey Devil Considers Parallels,” The New Jersey Devil Washes the Blood Off (and other vignettes) (L'Éphémère Review micro-chapbook, 2018)

— Nikki Giovanni, from an interview with Cynthia Adina Kirkwood for Los Angeles Times, Dec 4, 1985

— Aracelis Girmay, “I Am Not Ready To Die Yet”

Hi do u know any poems on trauma?

hi, you could try looking through my tags #the great wound, #the body as a haunted house, or #la sonnambula which encompass trauma + trauma responses. you could also check out andrea gibson’s collection of poetry called the madness vase, mahtem shiferraw’s collection called your body is war, tara hardy’s my, my, my, my, my, ada limón’s bright dead things, tarfia faizullah’s seam, or alice notley’s in the pines. and finally a few poems below the cut:

“The violence we read about goes down. To trace some kinds I’ve known, I’d have to violate telling; because violence doesn’t always proceed directly from body to body. It flows from the heart to as far as the heart can’t see.”

alice notley, from in the pines; “the black trailer”

nikki giovanni, from “crutches”

tara hardy, “my, my, my, my, my”

h.d., from “envy”

marie howe, “magdalene: the addict”

mahtem shiferraw, your body is war; “your body is war (ii)”

ada limón, “before”

“What do I do with the loss I have? you ask. Now that I have survived, I have this.”

alice notley, from “in the pines”

hi :) i love your blog so very much. i can’t sleep and im feeling horrifically anxious and i was wondering if you have any words that i can use to wrap myself around. anything that feels like being held ♡

Callista Buchen, “Taking Care”

Pat Schneider, “The Patience of Ordinary Things”

Kim Hye Rim

“Come, let’s stand by the window and look out / at the light on the field. / Let’s watch how / the clouds cover the the sun and almost nothing / stirs in the grass.”

Danusha Laméris, The Moons of August; “Thinking”

Heather Christle, “Then We Are in Agreement”

Holly Warburton

Ross Gay, from The Book of Delights 

Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

Bernadette Mayer, from The Way to Keep Going in Antarctica

Ben McLaughlin, The Train

Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Joy Harjo, from “For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet”

Our Experience of Grief is Unique as a Fingerprint

“Sometimes, when I’m careless, I think survival is easy: you just keep moving forward with what you have, or what’s left of what you were given, until something changes—or you realize, at last, that you can change without disappearing, that all you had to do was wait until the storm passes you over and you find that—yes—your name is still attached to a living being.”

— Ocean Vuong, from On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous