Dead Houseplants

A poem for when hope feels scary

Welcome. This is a new series of unpublished poetry called Bloom: A season of grief and gratitude. These poems were written after my Dad’s unexpected death in the same year I became unexpectedly pregnant. The free introduction to this series is here. I hope these poems touch something inside your heart beyond words and weave a tapestry of connection between all of us. 💗

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Hello. This poem is for when the possibility of new life seems too good to be true, when no matter how much evidence there is for celebration, we cannot yet allow ourselves to hope.

I wrote “Dead Houseplants” in January of 2022 when in the second trimester of pregnancy, I got COVID for the first time. We weren’t married yet and Prasunjit hadn’t moved in, so I was stuck at home, quarantining with my fears. This poem is an acknowledgment of how hard it can be to believe in new beginnings after loss. It’s permission to let ourselves go to the dark side and stay there, as long as we need. ✨

Photo by Evie S. on Unsplash

Dead Houseplants

It is not
lost on me
that while I am growing
new life
in this burgeoning body
at least 25%, maybe 50%
of my houseplants 
are dying

The Christmas tree-
dry, prickly
no longer smelling
of blue pine
empty cans 
of chicken noodle soup
piled in the recycling bin

The teapot boils
for a second, third time 
today
Gratitude shapeshifts
into yet more grief

As the pandemic surges
I google pairs of words-
“corona” and “pregnancy”
reading answers like
“stillbirth” and “miscarriage”

If I listen closely
and use my imagination
I can hear 
little one’s heartbeat
faster than mine

There is no guarantee
this life
this gift
will survive

Grief has no threshold
once reached
offering sweet relief
There is no deductible
for suffering
a temporary resting place
a pause 
and gather oneself again

I wonder
what my dying houseplants
are trying to tell me
what cautionary tale
of illusory hope?

I’d love to know if this poem resonated with you and hear your stories of grief and gratitude. Let’s learn how to mourn in community, held by love and our shared experiences of what it means to be a messy, worthy human. 💗

To hear me read “Dead Houseplants” and share the inspiration behind it, watch the video below. This week, I also included a guided meditation to help soothe our nervous systems and journaling prompts for reflection.

(This is normally an option for paying subscribers only but due to the overwhelming response from readers in

Sarah Fay

’s Friday Thread, I’m removing the paywall for everyone).

Thank you for supporting my writing and this community.

If you’re unable to afford a subscription but would like to upgrade, send me an email at thebarefootbeat@gmail.com and I will gift you a subscription. Sharing this poem on social media or with a friend is another way to offer your support!

“Let my gardens speak for me when I am gone. Let them speak in colored whispers of all the beauty I have seen. And felt. And lived. Let them speak of how much death had to find me; how many hard seasons it took to make me a living, breathing thing.”

-Emory Hall

Music has always been such an important part of my self-expression and healing. Especially in times of grief, it reaches beyond the place of words to offer comfort. I hope this song touches your heart like it has mine.

This week, I have some journaling prompts for your consideration. If you’d like more journaling prompts on future posts, let me know. If you’d like to share your responses below, please do. I’d love to hear your experience.

Journal Prompts

1. How can you make room for grief during moments of joy and celebration?

2. Make a list of the major life events and changes you’ve experienced since 2020. What do you notice when reviewing the list? Is there anything that needs more acknowledgment?

3. If your nervous system could ask you for one thing, what would it be?

Until next week, remember that you are safe, you belong, you are here.

All my love,
Mariah