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 This is a new series of unpublished poetry called Bloom: A season of grief and gratitude.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. 💗
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. ✨
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
’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
How can you make room for grief during moments of joy and celebration?
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?
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
This is gorgeous. I love the photo with it. I am left hoping to hear your coming poems about parenting an infant... while grieving the father who won't ever get to meet your baby.
“I can hear
little one’s heartbeat
faster than mine”
Mariah this sent my heart racing. Thank you for sharing, and condolences for the loss of your father.