The poems

poetry

Words that arrived quietly and asked to stay.

Eight Weeks After the Burn

You only knew that pain had entered the kitchen and pain had your name.

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May the Rejected Rose Bloom Anyway

This is a poem for every woman who was told she was too much, or not enough, or both at once. The rejected rose does not need the garden to recognise her. She needs only light. And she has that.

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The Morning After the Witches Danced

This is the morning after. The bonfires have gone out. The witches have come home. And here — absurdly, stubbornly, in the first light of May — the garden is still here.

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A Letter from Hope Sötnös Saga

I have been watching you from the windowsill and I have thoughts. You make beauty out of nothing and call it everything.

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The ADHD Poem

Everyone else just thinks. I have to chase my thoughts through seventeen rooms before I can sit down with one.

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The Anger Poem

I gave you my focus. I sat down and looked at every image, every number, one by one — the way I have to do things, the way that costs me everything I have for the day.

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The Maiden Manor of Bohus-Malmön

The rock does not apologise for being hard. We came here with cameras and clothes that did not belong to the weather and we made something that belonged here more than we did.

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Blessed Are the Ones Who Cannot Sit in Any Chair

You are not disordered. You are not a deficit. You are a nervous system that was built for a world that has not been built yet.

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I Am the Garden

I am not the tower. I am not the throne. I am the garden.

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Sister Saga

She is not separate from me. She is the me that winter made.

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The Daffodil, February-Born

They said: nothing blooms in February. I said: watch.

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The Devil's Daughter

I am the woman they thought they'd broken. I am the garden in the aftermath.

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Peter Pan Tivoli — Sagan om barnet för evigt i ingenstans

Här vinner alla alltid. Here everyone always wins. The story of the child forever in Neverland.

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Jag Blommar Fram

Not despite the darkness but through it — the way crocuses push through frozen ground, the way Easter arrives not when winter ends but while winter is still arguing.

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For the Ones Left Behind

they were calling for her. in the dark hours before the birds. a sound i had never heard before — not song, not cry, but something older.

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Mornings with Violette

i am waking up filled with a childlike joy. another day i have never seen before i think to myself. hello discover & wonder.

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Easter Tells You

it is possible to become a new creation

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April First — Again I Will Bloom

On this day I arrived in New York. On this day I arrived in London. On this day I arrived in Stockholm.

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In My House Lives a Faery

In my house lives a faery. Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown with silver spots upon her wings.

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The Myth of This Girl

My life is a myth that began with a little girl whom wanted to take over the world through her beauty and her kindred spirit.

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The Sweetness Mirror

I am the bible. I am the faerie tale. I am the scripture written in the veil.

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Jag Behöver

I need grace. I need love. I need closeness. I need God. I need sweetness. I need beauty. I need joy. I need sunshine.

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One Peculiar Child of God

I had a wonderful morning. Spring is happening. I am one peculiar child of God.

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Skapa Skapa Skapa

Create. Create. Create. One thing a day for thirty-one days. Be soft. Be magic. Be huge.

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I Am Ordained

In the cathedral's rose-lit hush, a ballerina stands---ethereal, crowned for heaven, ordained by grace.

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The Vulnerability of Vanity

dear god teach me how to sing like the fluttering summer birds

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26 poems