• About
  • Photography
    • weddings
    • portraiture
    • 35mm
  • Projects
    • 'How the Story Ends'
    • 'To Be Relieved'
  • Published Writing
  • blog
gathering rosemary
  • About
  • Photography
    • weddings
    • portraiture
    • 35mm
  • Projects
    • 'How the Story Ends'
    • 'To Be Relieved'
  • Published Writing
  • blog

harvest poem

Dripping juice of peaches

gulps of lemonade, after heat 

drenched our hair and body.

This is the taste of abundance - 

sweeter because of the lack

fuller because of the wait.


August has left us

yearning for crisp autumn,

for yellows in squash and leaves,

for warmth in sweaters - 

the absence of sweat. 

For awhile, joy was in 

the heat, the work necessary 

to settle in, make tidy a room 

meant for tea and 

the words of great minds. 

Joy was in the plowing,

the sowing, the waiting, 

as humidity consumed our clothes

and water was our relief.

Now fall is our hope for repose. 

What we sowed in August, 

we will steward well

in the loveliness of September - 

eat slowly what was

put into and pulled from 

the rich ground. 

tags: poetry, harvest writing, fall, autumn, summer, heat, prompt, creative writing, contemplative writing
Thursday 09.09.21
Posted by Grace Gilroy
Comments: 3
 

I met myself today

I met myself today. Conversation was light and weighty all at once. We finished the day weary, our smiling eyes brimmed over with tears.

As I walked home, images came to mind that felt like heavy weights on my shoulders. I used to yell at her, quietly but angrily at small mishaps and overly emotional moments. 

At times I would slap her stomach, scrunch it between my fingers, make her bend and move from side to side, just to see the full view. “Not acceptable,” I would say, restricting her from banana bread and warm cups of coffee.

Sometimes I found her on the floor, her back in aching from the strain of exercise. My face would grow hot and I would picture all she wasn’t and all that put her in this place. “You’re hopeless,” were the words I left her with, pulsing with apathy. 

A combination of chocolate and dry weather cause her face to peel and break out in red blotches. I bought moisturizer after cream after medication but it all came to nothing. No improvement was made. “You’re on your own,” I would say and scoff everytime she looked in the mirror. 

Still she would come to me with the flavorful and delicious meals, enough to satisfy a queen. She crafted cookies with rosemary and pies with thyme. She stubbornly enjoyed her coffee mid-morning, another in the evening. 

And yet, her greatest offerings of peace, her petitions for hope were flung aside by my ruthless desires for perfection.

Today I met myself again. She’s been busy in the kitchen, apron stained by chocolate and hands tired from kneading. She makes it outside often, her breathing growing easy, her muscles loosening as she runs the neighborhood streets. 

As we spoke, her eyes implored for approval, a simple word of affection. I smiled, “There must be purpose in your joys and grace in the process.”

I smiled as her eyes sparkled, hopeful, and wondered if I could believe it too. 

“To be resilient, we need to face our shame. shame shuts us down. It prevents us from receiving and giving. Shame causes distance. But we have to see our need for help amidst the shame. I believe resilience comes from facing our weakness and our need and working through our shame. Resilience comes through trusting that redemption and restoration is possible. Resilience relies on the hope that change is possible.” - Edith Reitsema

tags: eating disorder, body image, healing, creative writing, hope
Monday 05.11.20
Posted by Grace Gilroy
Comments: 1