Creative Column: Four Incantations for Loss, Joy and Love


gasping for air in my bell jar,

i long for closure and i crave familiarity,

melded thoughts and warm hands.

i am desperate to connect.

i want to feel someone’s soul

glued to mine.

i dream of intimacy,

but i’m clumsy:

when people embrace me too tightly,

i hiss like a cornered snake.

i’m wary of being alone, but

i drift away during conversations,

i ignore messages,

i break friendships,

i feign smiles.

i find refuge

in my bell jar.

every night

i close the jar’s lid with shaky hands,

hug my knees

and blow air on the glass.

☼ I breathe, I accept my grief

i wake up at dawn

and i find happiness

in slicing an apple

and munching on it


i accept my grief

i find beauty

in standing barefoot in the middle of the kitchen,

feeling breadcrumbs stick

to my pinky toe

i breathe

i accept my grief

i learn there is joy in cutting tomatoes,

in making a bowl of soup,

in having my stomach full


i accept my grief

i uncover the childish glee of

having the tip of my tongue burnt

and gratitude runs between my fingers like water

being alive is warm

there is kindness

in tuning in

and i breathe

i accept


grief. ☼

                     when I met you















                                                  letters, cuts

01. 01. 2018

dear A,

it’s been three years since i’ve lost you

and i swear i am trying.

i bought a shiny yoga mat

and i do yin yoga for grief release.

i ground my feet,

do warrior poses

and chant.

i try,

but no matter how much i contort my body at dawn

my sorrow rips through my brain

and sticks to my eyelids.

                                                10. 02. 2018

                        most beloved A,

i wear my loss

like i wear my rings.

11. 02. 2018

darling A,

i swear i’m trying.

i’ve stopped reading sylvia Plath

and bookmark poems

about the universe that is supposedly unfolding in my core.

read self-help articles about how pain is grace,

grinding my teeth.

write inspirational quotes on purple notebooks

and make bullet-points about Buddhism

with pink pens.

i press the tips onto the paper


as if to push what i write through me.

i beg my mind to meditate

i put on compilations of “deep relaxing & healing music with instant relief from stress”

and i force myself to still.

i download apps that ease anxiety

and i go to meditation groups on wednesdays.

but, no matter how long i stay cross-legged on the floor,

straightening my back and linking my thumbs,

it hurts.

25. 02. 2018

my dearest A,

i quit drinking

and i made new friends.

friends that drink hot chocolate

friends that watch soft films

friends that pray in the evenings

instead of drowning in face paint

and sprawling on dance floors.

they meet for coffee

they talk about how simple life is

and i nod when my heart clenches.

30. 02. 2018

beloved A,

my brain is softly melting to the floor

04. 03. 2018

ever dearest A,

i’ve been reading about the cycle of rebirth

i wish to believe in it,

but scepticism clouds my heart.

i’m not pure enough for transcendence

so if i am reborn

i wish i could be as small

as a sparrow.

11. 04. 2019

dear A,

i’m unsure where loss ends

        and i begin.

                                                                                                                                  with longing,

                                                                                                                                  T. ☼

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