I looked down at the bottom of the Zoom screen. Participants-78. I felt somewhat relieved that with a gathering of this size, I could remain somewhat invisible. The workshop was titled, “The Mystery of Grief, Writing into the Loss,” led by a favorite poet, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer.
Rosemerry began by singing the beautiful words of Gregory Orr, a selection from a longer work:
Not to make loss beautiful,
But to make loss the place
Where beauty starts. Where
the heart understands
For the first time
The nature of its journey.
She talked about her own experience and how writing helped her to meet her grief in whatever form it presented itself. It’s everchanging, day by day. “Grief – what do you have to teach me today?” she asks. Rosemerry meets her grief with a daily poem writing process. She begins with this curiosity and writes, “Today grief is….”
As a group, we added our own responses to the prompt in the Chat. The responses were powerful and heartfelt. Some I captured in my notebook.
Today grief is…
tender
a vibration
bone-weary
a tumultuous river
a frozen river
underground
right behind my eyes
an endless knot
muscular
a freefall
beside me
Having lost a dear friend on Tuesday, March 6, my tears were close, but I felt comfort in this group of strangers coming together around loss. We had all experienced it, as every human being must. There was compassion for the experience of being in the grocery store and wanting to shout at strangers, “Can’t you see how sad I am?” Compassion for the woman who is the caregiver for her husband and his cancer after losing a daughter to cancer six months ago. Compassion for the impossibility of understanding suicide. Compassion for the new widow trying to figure out how to be in their shared home of 50 years without his presence.
Rosemerry encouraged us to pay attention and reflect on what happens in our bodies when we write. How does writing open us to know when we are writing what is true?
Isn’t it remarkable what we can carry at times and how we are also carried? Isn’t it a wonder how resilient and adaptive humans can become? Isn’t it a blessing when we gather with others (even strangers) and know we are not alone? How differently we might treat others if we only knew the things they hold in their hearts.
Please go here to read another poem we discussed called, “Made Visible” by poet, James Crews. It just might touch you.
a place of safety, support, and beauty.
pelicansandprose 
Thanks for letting us see into this writing workshop and for sharing some of the beauty that grief can bring. May you be comforted in your time of grief as well.
Thank you for the kind words.
Marilyn, I am so sorry for your loss. This workshop sounds like it was powerful. Thank you for sharing this special experience.
Marilyn, I’m glad you decided to go. It sounds like even though you wanted to be invisible in the Zoom meeting, you were comforted and blessed–your pain became more visible, like in Crews’ poem (which is beautiful and touching). So much truth here: “Isn’t it remarkable what we can carry at times and how we are also carried?”
A beautiful share, about such an intelligent workshop. “Today, grief is…” is so beautiful and helpful, I imagine. Your poetic images are original and expressive. And I am so sorry for your recent loss.
Marilyn, I am so sorry about the loss of your friend. Rosemerry’s poems about grief are so touching. I hope they help you through this. I am sure that workshop was amazing, and I loved what you captured in your notebook. So many ideas there for poems. Hugs, my friend!
The words you’ve chosen and the parts of the workshop you’ve included in this slice give such a beautiful picture of this experience. It sounds like such a powerful group to participate in. Thank you for letting us in to experience it with you.