Healing Through Poetry: Finding comfort and catharsis in creativity

Hello, dear readers. I hope you are well and practicing self-care to help you get through any challenges you face. Recently, I’ve written about how writing poetry has helped me cope with all kinds of struggles, and how mindfulness and poetry go hand in hand.

Today I would like to share three poems as examples of how writing can be cathartic, comforting, and creative all at once. These are a few of the poems that will be featured in my upcoming poetry book, “Gentle Currents: Poems of Pause & Peace,” which I hope to have published in spring of next year.

If you have lived any length of time, you have likely faced setbacks that seem so jarring, unexpected, and profound they literally feel like a punch in the gut. You are sailing along with everything seemingly going well, only to be blindsided by a sudden setback that forces you to your knees. Maybe it’s a devastating diagnosis, the loss of a loved one, or an accident that leaves you facing a long and uncertain road to recovery. Or maybe it’s the exhausting, painful journey of caring for a loved one facing addiction or other chronic mental or physical illness.

When we are dealing with intense pain, words literally fail. Well-meaning friends ask how we are, but the hurt goes so deep we just want to withdraw and not discuss our troubles. Or they may ask, but not really want to know the answer. I wrote this poem when going through such a time:

Don’t ask me how I am
As sorrow flows through me
Don’t ask me

If your ears must close to the truth
Don’t ask me

If your heart must harden to the pain
Don’t ask me

If your hands hang useless
at the end of your limp arms
Don’t ask me

When your arms become animated
and pulse with energy, pulling me in
for a warm embrace
I’ll know I’ve been seen

When your heart softens
and shares my sorrow
I’ll know I’ve been felt

When your ears open to my quivering voice
I’ll know I’ve been heard

Then go ahead
Ask me how I am

The more severe your suffering, the harder it can be to see beyond the pain. This is true of physical pain, intense grief, and depression that can sap strength and hope. I have at times used poetry to document my own suffering, putting pain onto paper as I waited to feel better, as in this pandemic poem:

I lace my fingers together into a carrier,
and slide the hammock under the
bowling ball of my head sunk into
the uppermost pillow

Heavy, so leaden to lift
Rocking the cables of my neck to and fro

The muscles are quiet now, thank God,
no longer screaming hot, a moment
of gratitude and relief at the absence of pain

My torso pitched up, in a soft valley
of wrinkled cotton and flannel,
drying as I cool down, nestled along
the embankment of blankets beside me

Heaviness in my eye sockets
Heavy, the back of my head
Heavy everywhere my body
makes contact with the mattress

The brain in my skull feels thick,
a waterlogged sponge

The thought of coffee a mirage
in my inner landscape
Coffee fueling the breaststroke up
to consciousness
My arms in my mind’s eye
reaching up around and down
propelling me through the grey fog
Until I break through into the clearing

Feeling another moment of gratitude
that because of human brilliance,
this virus is passing through me
leaving a trail of antibodies
along the path to health.

I also write poetry to help me cope and stay grounded in the face of the horror and inhumanity of terror and war. I wrote the following poem on Oct. 10, 2023, three days after the shocking and horrific massacre by the terrorist group Hamas on innocent babies and children, teenagers, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, and grandparents. I was so distraught all over my body that I used my Mindful Methods for Life tools and techniques to try to ground myself. I was at our home in Sun Valley, Idaho, so the trees, mountains, and river were my salvation.

The crisp air dances around my face
I hear wind rustling the leaves
of the quaking Aspen Trees
The river a gentle background burble

Yet I find my body quaking like the trees,
There’s a burbling in my soul
Fear, rage, guilt, and grief bubbling into awareness

How to come home
Settle the body
Hand on heart
Breathe longer on the exhale
Open your eyes to see what is here in this place

Allow the heart to settle inside
the cathedral of your rib cage

Notice the tree is quaking
Yet you remain steady

Hear the river as river
Water rushing over stones
Your soul has quieted

You are here, now
Grounded on the earth
In community
You are not alone
Hanging onto hope

I have used poetry and mindfulness to help me through times like these, and I love teaching others how they can grow stronger and more resilient no matter what hardships they face. May you find peace in times of struggle, comfort and hope in times of despair, and healing by practicing your own Mindful Methods for Life!