Sitting with Grief

Who is fooling whom?
Grief hides,
until it jumps out of the closet
and yells Gotcha!
Hiding from myself
something part of me
doesn’t want to know,
something one part
refuses to remember—
grief is intricate like that.
When I think I’m finished,
I attend an opera, raw emotion
floods me with the music.
Loss looms sudden and gigantic,
punches my chest with its iron tsunami.
Shocked, I totter, stagger—
equilibrium once more a joke.

When I scrabble my way
back to standing balance,
when I have banished again,
the sadness with no solution,
the sorrow that can only
become a companion—
I may fool myself once more
that grief is done.
For sitting with sadness
is grueling work.

Sitting with grief
I need a glass of water beside me,
for the work parches the heart.
Sitting with sorrow,
I must have a cushion that is firm,
for it will be a lengthy sit.
Sitting with sadness
I cannot fool myself,
for grief is my clearest mirror.
I will look deep!
For facing loss
may bring me, before I die,
to lift my mouth in a slim smile
at the beauty that remains.

©Susa Silvermarie 2017

Standing Rock Ceremony on Lake Chapala






Sonnet to Lake Michigan

I just returned from Milwaukee WI where I was blessed to swim, one day, in great Lake Michigan.  Leaving the beach full of gratitude, my heart broke when the radio told me what has been found in the fish of this first lake of my heart.

Mint green, the rolling water,
its roar erasing
the rest of the world—
But no, Lake Michigan’s splendor
only underlines what the world is for!
Its marvel more powerful than presidents,
its watersong more constant than suffering,
its enormous presence
spreads a healing balm
on humanity’s ripped skin.

Great lake full of heart,
as I make my amends
for the Prozac found in your fishes,
make large my own sorrowing heart,

©Susa Silvermarie 2017

Posada Invitation


On Friday September 15, I will be reading the beginning of a new piece called Las Tres Comadres, a Contemporary Legend from Lake Chapala. My twelve-minute slot at the microphone takes place at The Ajijic Writers Group meeting 10 AM, in the beautiful garden at La Nueva Posada (9 Donato Guerra).  Many non-writers often attend, simply to hear what the Ajijic writers are up to. I hereby invite all you local friends to drop by for a listen– would love to see you there!

Solar Eclipse

Sitting at my window
while the sun is completely covered
and the terror of shadow
comes with its sharp edges,
I am quieted, quieted.

From stillness I witness
unloved children, shadow selves,
creeping out to be seen.
Before we leave the old ways,
all the unloved children
ask to be embraced.

As I sit at my window,
the world empties of sound.
Gone silent, birds, and dogs.
No radios, only
an impossible passage,
an invitation:

Will we climb the sipapu*,
portal to a new world?
Freshness! Unfamiliar air!
The opening beckons.
Shall we birth the world again?

*Sipapu is a Hopi word for the round indentation in the floor of a kiva, symbolizing the portal through which their ancestors first emerged to enter the present world.

©Susa Silvermarie 2017