Happy Mar10 Day! An update

I have imagined sitting down to write this update many times since I stopped making daily social media posts for the foundation. It’s not that I think I owe anyone an explanation, or that I believe anyone has been out there wondering all this time what happened, for me to go from posting every day to occasionally to not at all. More that I would like to try to explain for myself — what happened then, and what life is like now.

The financial part of the Rader Ward Foundation is operating as it has from the beginning. We are still accepting donations, and taking applications and awarding scholarships to the three Montessori schools in our county that offer elementary and middle school education. (Faith Montessori Homeschool Co-op is, in fact, expanding into the high school grades — a development we are thrilled to see and support.)

But the social media work part was a passion project of mine. I loved it and it was one way of keeping Rader close to my heart: finding resources for mental health, suicide prevention, and grief support, and posting something new daily, with something more lighthearted for balance weekly on Mario Mondays.

Then almost exactly two years ago, the week of Mar10 Day 2022, I made my first visit to ReCraft Creative Reuse Center (it made its way into my posts for the first time April 2, 2022). Later in April, I made my 1,000th post. I started missing days (one day at a time, then two) in May, and gradually posted less and less after that.

I mention ReCraft not because they’re ‘to blame’ for the end of my daily posting, but when I started to volunteer there that first day I went in to donate some of my mom’s old sewing supplies, I found that being there fulfilled me in many of the same ways that tending to the foundation social media had fulfilled me.

One area where Rader loved to express his creativity was making things with discarded or repurposed materials. Being at ReCraft helps me continue to feel close to him, and brings back a lot of fond memories of projects he worked on. He had the kind of imagination where he could look at an item and see a completely new use for it. ReCraft is full of these types of raw materials — and people who see them with that same eye Rader had — every day. (Also I find sorting through donations and putting them out on the floor for folks to discover to be a really soothing activity. In an out-of-control world, being able to put order to one small part of it feels amazing.)

Then in the fall of 2022, because of anti-LGBTQ+ developments in my local public library system, I began to attend and speak at meetings of our library board, and meetings of the body that appoints our library board members, County Council. It’s a bit of an understatement to say that that whole thing took on a life of its own, and advocacy now occupies a fair bit of my attention daily. (If you’re interested in the details, check out the Linktree of Freedom in Libraries Advocacy Group — especially the timeline and the white paper. I’m also involved in leading my local chapter of PFLAG.)

I believe that sharing the great work of other nonprofits and creatives on social media was a useful service and that it helped people for those 1,000+ days I was doing it consistently. But advocating personally on behalf of marginalized folks living within my community and state has become a more important and urgent use of my time and energy.

I’m still just as much into Super Mario, and my wardrobe of clothing and pins continues to expand, along with my stash of collectibles. I still love taking care of my houseplants. (On a personal note, my mother passed away a couple weeks ago, and I now have a couple of new plants to tend to as I journey into that fresh loss.) I miss regularly interacting with some of you via likes and comments. Without daily posting, I’m using Instagram and Facebook and Twitter a lot less.

There’s a part of me that wishes I could figure out a system of semi-regular posting for the foundation. I thrive on a schedule, so posting ‘whenever I feel like it’ gets me pretty much nowhere. Maybe I could look at each upcoming month and plan two posts? That doesn’t seem so overwhelming, but it’s still a new habit I’ll have to start and reinforce.

Thanks for reading! — Susan, Rader’s mom

we saw the Mario movie, and yikes, this luma

Photo: Universal Pictures/Nintendo

My family and I brought a lot of baggage into The Super Mario Bros. Movie. We bought three tickets when we should have been buying four. I would have paid any amount for that fourth ticket, if it meant our family's biggest Mario fan, my son Rader, had not died by suicide six years ago at age 15.

Every time there's a new advancement in the Mario universe, something that happens without Rader, it's hard for all of us. The first time I remember that feeling is when Super Mario Odyssey came out for the Nintendo Switch.

Nintendo released the Switch console in March 2017, but Odyssey, the Switch's first big Mario game, didn't come out until October. Rader died in June. As a gamer, he was pretty singularly focused on Mario games, so we had planned to wait and buy the Switch in the fall. We did get one when Odyssey was released, but with Rader gone, it was bittersweet — this great new game that he never got to play, on a console he never owned. He should be here for this.

Everyone who knows me knows that in memory of Rader, I'm a Super Mario superfan. It's obvious from my wardrobe of Mario pins, t-shirts, and denim, to our family collection of Mario figurines, coins, and artwork, to the longstanding tradition of Mario Monday posts on our foundation social media.

So it's also no surprise that if a Mario movie comes out, the Wards are going to see it. For various reasons, we didn't see The Super Mario Bros. Movie right away, but finally last Tuesday, William, Matthew, and I got our tickets at a local theater, bought some snacks, and sat down to enjoy it.

Or try to enjoy it, until the appearance of an adorable childlike character with a death wish: Lumalee.

Our family-favorite Mario game is Super Mario Galaxy, which takes place in a part of the universe inhabited by glowing, plump, star-shaped creatures called Lumas. We all loved them, but Rader did especially — so much so that he wanted one for Christmas the year the game came out, 2007. Nintendo wasn't making official Luma merchandise yet, so we ordered him a custom plush from a creator on Etsy (Katie Creider of Penguinotic) who had unlocked the secret to the Luma's tricky shape (after we tried — and failed — to sew one ourselves).

We love Lumas, but all three of us were deeply disturbed by the one in the movie. Read on to hear why.

Photo: Universal Pictures/Nintendo

It's not cute:
Luma's death wish could harm struggling Mario Movie viewers

As the conflict ramps up in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, we find Luigi imprisoned by Bowser. He's suspended in a cage hanging from a chain over a lake of lava, surrounded by dozens of other folks who have run afoul of the King of the Koopas.

The scene unfolds and my heart sinks — not because Mario's brother is in peril, but because he's immediately confronted by one of the other prisoners. You think it's going to be cute, but the adorable star-shaped Luma's words are nihilistic. Lumalee has lost all hope, and he doesn't hold back in telling us about it. He grins and swings his cage with glee as he exclaims there's no escape and that he looks forward to death. Every time we see him again, he has something worse to say.

I've been having a pretty good time up until now. Suddenly I'm not enjoying myself anymore.

"It's just a cartoon," you might say. "Can't you take a joke?"

Indeed, that seems to be the prevailing position. I read several other reviews focused on Lumalee — calling him the movie's 'cutest character,' and its 'best running gag.' More than one reviewer suggested he should star in a sequel or spinoff.

Here's the problem with that. If you're someone who happens to be struggling with depression, and especially with self harm or suicidal thinking, having a cute animated character confirm your dark thoughts for you over and over again isn't healthy or safe.

Negativity bias — our tendency to give more weight to negative information than to positive — is real, and can be challenging to overcome. It doesn't help to have our negative thoughts reinforced by surprise bad influences in what should be innocuous media. I'm not at all saying every character in every movie should be pure sunshine and roses. That's silly. But I don't think it's unreasonable to draw a line that says a cute character in a kids' movie shouldn't spout a slew of suicidal thoughts.

Lumalee also is portrayed and observed by other characters as unhinged, that he's lost his mind. Conflating lunacy with suicidality is problematic, contributing to stigma that stops some people from seeking help. Suicide can and does affect people across all demographics. Struggling doesn't mean you're "crazy."

I'm a Super Mario superfan, but I definitely will not see this movie again, nor buy its merchandise. (I'm appalled, in retrospect, that the affiliated McDonald's Happy Meal merch included a Lumalee toy. Glad I didn't go buy all of that.)

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text the suicide and crisis lifeline at 988 or chat 988lifeline.org.

how are you?

"Hey, how are you?"

Unless you haven't been leaving your house, this is a question you probably ask and answer at least a couple times a day, and maybe don't give much thought to.

Today, though, I *am* thinking about it. How am I?

I haven't been posting much recently. I took a break to reevaluate my purpose in running the foundation's social media. And frankly, once I broke my commitment to posting one thing every day, it has been SUPER hard to decide to get back to that standard.

In the meantime, I am doing some other good things with my time. I'm still teaching a few classes a week at Greenville Indoor Rowing and have set myself a lifetime-meters goal of 10 million by the end of the year. I am having a blast volunteering weekly at ReCraft Greenville. I'm spending time at our mountain cabin when I can.

And after five years of empty-nesting, I cleared out both kids' bedrooms at home in Greenville in preparation for grown-up guest-room-style updates. Removing everything from those rooms necessitated a lot of decisions of the "keep, give away, throw away" variety. I took an entire carload to ReCraft, and donated boxes to the QWC resource closet, a couple of thrift stores, and a bag of gently used gear and uniforms to Master Kim's World Class Tae Kwon Do.

I attempted to take a box of books to the Friends of Greenville County Library used book sale location, which last I knew (years ago) accepted donations on Thursdays. But no one was there, so I kept the books in my car and brought them up to the mountains with me to donate to the Macon County N.C. Friends of the Library bookstore in Franklin. I hadn't been there before and thought it would be a fun excursion.

It was! They were grateful for my donation — our set of Disney Fairy books was going immediately out to the children's section, the volunteer said — and I found a couple of things I wanted, too! Less than $5 bought me a jigsaw puzzle of vintage glass Christmas ornaments, a logic puzzle book, and from the grief section, When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi (for 50 cents!). I'm already halfway through it (and have assembled my puzzle as well).

While I was in Franklin, I stopped by several other places on the same road that looked intriguing:

Here is everything I thrifted on Friday (other than the second pair of shorts, which I am wearing).

• Repeats Upscale Consignment, where I bought two pairs of shorts (it was hot up here last week and I realized I needed more)

• 3H Thrift Shop, where for $8 I picked up a black silk beaded jacket, whenever (if ever) I have somewhere fancy to go again (maybe I'll take out the shoulder pads), and

• Whistle Stop Depot, a sprawling antiques mall where I found four pressed-glass dishes in a pattern matching one my mom had when I was growing up (Federal Glass Petal Clear) for whenever we entertain again. Oh and a Super Mario Lego item too.

All of it together was under $70, and all of it fits in the one box I carried the book donation in. So I think I came out very well, and it was an enjoyable, relaxing afternoon.

How am I? I'm doing things that help me feel productive and healthy. I'm taking time for activities I enjoy, including those that are quiet and relaxing. I have plans for the future I'm excited about. I think I'm managing as well as can be expected! How are you?

giving grief a say

My third and final poetry review for this last week of Poetry Month: John Roedel's collection titled upon departure.

Back on April 15 I posted a John Roedel poem, “The Anatomy of Peace.” I'm a new fan of his, so I don't know if it's actually his most popular/viral, but it is brilliant and has been shared widely. If you missed it, please read it or listen to him recite it.

After reading more of his work, I bought upon departure, his latest collection.

In the foreword he tells the story of his dad's death. Grief for the loss of his father is the foundation for these poems. This sentence rang true to me: "I was afraid that if I started crying I would never be able to stop."

After the foreword (not labeled as such; that's just what I'm calling it) — which is prose — is a prologue, in verse. The poems that follow are all numbered rather than titled. Number 4 is the one I read that convinced me to buy the book.

I’ve now read all of them, and #4 is still my favorite. The concept is that your loved one has not gone, they've simply changed forms: "it's just that they were the lake that eventually became the rolling thunderhead / it's just that they were the seed that eventually became the lush apple tree / it's just that they were the fistful of wet clay that eventually became the cup of eternity". It's a sentimental poem and I am all in on it, even though the concept of Rader NOT being gone is something I have never been able to embrace. I don't see signs of him or feel his presence. Part of me thinks that if I just believed in that stuff it might happen for me. Regardless, even though I don't believe it, this poem had me in tears. That seems pretty powerful.

Other points of appreciation:

💭 In #20, "you are not your heartbreaks / you are not your failures / you are not your tears / you are not your scars" reminds me of a song from Sonic Yogi (Jonathan Adams)'s new album, Breath into Being. The song is "I Am: Letting Go," and it's a must-listen. (Log in to Spotify to hear it in full.)

💭 An observation in #21: "everything in my life / has been a vehicle /carrying me from one moment to the next" after several stanzas following the structure "I'm still (__ years old) / and I'm riding (my bike)"

💭 In #39, Roedel compares death to being 'born' into the afterlife. "… on my last day / here on Earth // let me be as I / was on my very first // let me be // ready to see the smiling faces /of all those who have been /eagerly waiting to meet me"

💭 And #40 does actually have a title after the number: The SuperBloom. "… ecologists say that sometimes / when forests burn down / they can explode into thousands of wildflowers // they call it a 'superbloom' // - that's what grief is".

I was 10 and my family was living in Washington state when Mount St. Helens erupted; we heard the explosions from more than 100 miles away. Even though we moved to the east coast later that year, I was always interested in the aftermath. I’ve seen some impressive photographs of how nature reclaimed the desolate landscape, so this is what I imagine when I read Roedel’s metaphor for grief.

The three books of poetry I bought this month were all born from death (although that’s not something I was specifically going for). Jenny Qi and Stephen Sexton both wrote about their moms dying. John Roedel lost his dad. If you’re a writer — maybe even moreso if you’re a poet — when you have feelings, you write things down. Take a look through the “writing my grief” section to see how I’ve used writing to try to make sense of my own journey. There you’ll find the other book reviews I wrote this month, too.

jenny qi at the intersection of art and science

[Note: I'm way out of my depth writing poetry reviews!]

I'm so glad I heard Jenny Qi's recitation of “Telomeres & a 2AM (Love) Poem” on The Nocturnists, which prompted me to buy her book, Focal Point. I love the intersection of art and science from which she writes.

Points of appreciation:

💭 The title of the first poem is "Point At Which Parallel Waves Converge & From Which Diverge," which is the definition of a focal point in optics.

💭 The beginning line of "First Spring, 2011": 'Everyone I love is dead or dying.' Yep.

💭 The poem "Possibilities," which is simply a numbered list of ways to die (excellent writing prompt, if morbid). Three of them, numbers 3, 5, and 7, are just two words: Brutal murder. Slow slicing. Live burial. Then number 9's irony made me laugh: 'Alone in the forest, mauled by a rare bear, the kind of bear you have spent your entire life studying.' Number 13 is blank.

💭 The language-play in "The Plural of Us" — which begins with 'The end of an us is a death without dying,' and ends by considering 'octopuses octopodes octopi' and the structure of plurality in Latin. '… think how the Latin plural of -us is -i.'

I was intrigued that both Qi and Stephen Sexton (author of If All the World and Love Were Young that I posted about on Monday) included a section of notes where they explain their inspirations and sources for some of the poems. Obviously, credit where credit is due, but also it was fun to get a glimpse of their processes.

All three of the poetry collections I bought this month came from the poets’ grief. Sexton and Qi lost their moms. John Roedel’s dad died (more about his book, and the general idea of grief poetry, in a later post).

book review: what my bones know, by stephanie foo

When you spend hours and hours over a period of years listening to someone's voice on a podcast, especially if it's a podcast where people tell true stories about their experiences, you begin to feel very familiar with them.

It's called parasocial interaction and the concept is decades old, but it is being talked about much more these days — when you can follow those people on social media and develop an even deeper-feeling connection with them.

Stephanie Foo via her Instagram @foofoofoo

Rader and I heard Stephanie Foo frequently on Snap Judgment, a podcast we listened to weekly when we were in the car together. The public schools he attended were magnet schools, not near our house, so I dropped him off and picked him up daily; we had a lot of time. I believe we listened to every episode from when it started airing in 2010.

All this to say that when I sat down to read Foo's What My Bones Know, I didn't anticipate much in the way of surprising information. Was I wrong!

Other than the title of the book (subhead: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma), I had little indication that Foo's childhood had been so complicated. She had probably mentioned a few details here and there, but mostly on Snap Judgment she was helping other people tell their stories, not telling her own.

The book is divided into five parts. In the first, she shares the details of her childhood neglect and abuse, progressing to the point where as a teen she's eventually abandoned by both her parents. The other four parts detail the aftermath, in which after years of therapy she finally learns she's been diagnosed with complex PTSD. Once she has the diagnosis, she begins to search for whatever healing and resolution she might be able to achieve.

We learn about various types of therapy and medication she tries, some of which helps and some doesn't. She talks about the demands of the jobs she has held — sometimes immersing herself in work helped her avoid dealing with past trauma, but sometimes it brought it right into the spotlight. You'll read about her relationships: how she navigated interactions with family, friends, and romantic partners, and what she discovered about herself along the way.

It's asking a lot of this type of memoir to give you a happy ending, but as Foo says in the author's note at the beginning, that indeed is what you get. There's no miraculous cure, but she has managed to make a pretty great life for herself.

Naturally, parts of this book were tough to read. I don’t have experience with the same types of trauma as the author does, but I certainly could relate to her grief around her many losses. The way Foo tells her story moved me right along. I wanted to keep reading to find out what would happen next. I give it five stars!

super mario world becomes a framework for poems of grief

Today for the last Mario Monday of National Poetry Month, I have something special to share with you. I've just finished reading If All the World and Love Were Young, a collection by Irish poet Stephen Sexton. Sexton grew up playing Super Mario World, and finds himself revisiting the game as a way to cope with his mother's illness and then her death. Each poem has the title of a Super Mario World level, in order of progression from the beginning of the game through the end.

In the opening note of his book, he explains that the Super Nintendo (SNES) on which he played the game is a 16-bit console — that 16 bits is "how much memory the system can process at one time." He has hit upon such a precise metaphor for grief. So much of grieving is about memories, and there certainly is a limit to how much the griever can process at any given time. He reinforces this point by allowing himself exactly 16 syllables in each line of poetry. (If you've ever counted syllables to write a haiku, this effort is like that, but boss level.)

I have never played Super Mario World, but it was a game Rader really enjoyed. The original SNES version came out in 1990, but the game was rereleased for the Wii and Wii U virtual consoles. Rader likely discovered it when he was about 9, the same age as Stephen was.

Points of appreciation:

💭 The ending of ‘Donut Plains 3’:

One thing must become another chop chop the tree becomes a bridge
forest becomes a labyrinth whose prospect one climbs higher for
and from the falling dream you jolt somehow having landed having
been nowhere but long in front of the beautiful television.

💭 A couple of references I thought I caught in ‘Vanilla Fortress’ (but am having a hard time confirming in the Credits section): riffing on lines from ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,’ by Robert Frost, and ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner,’ by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Sexton is a brilliant and highly educated poet. I knew while I was reading that much of what he was drawing from here was going over my head. So I was excited to “get” these two.

💭 A couple of lines in ‘Wendy’s Castle’ reminded me of when Rader died, how incongruous it seemed that while my life had exploded, outside my door the world kept spinning:

Hippocrates in his white coat brings with him a shake of the head
brings with him the word for sorry which is the word for we have done
everything within our powers we have shaken out our potions
we have cast our shining magic and where we cannot do some good
at least we must refrain from harm. And the traffic lights are changing
and the traffic will dribble on along the busy carriageway
towards the beach or barbecues because it’s the summer solstice.

💭 Similar concept in ‘Valley of Bowser 2’:

Some things we choose to disregard: the cruelty of newspapers
the casual chat of holidays the world and how it now appears.

I deeply appreciate this book (it always seems weird to use the word "enjoy" when grief is involved).

unseen perils of spooky season

It’s hard to be a grieving person during Halloween season, says bestselling author Megan Devine of Refuge In Grief. Click the image at right to hear what else she has to say about it. Read on for my perspective.

On June 7, 2017, Rader died by suicide, just days before his 16th birthday. He had just finished his second year of high school. In August, after a blur of a summer none of us can really remember, our surviving child left home to begin college, and my husband and I became empty nesters when we should have had two more years to go. And then just another two months after that, we were approaching Halloween — which, compared to Thanksgiving and Christmas, is a "minor" holiday, right?

We had already decided we didn't want to participate in trick-or-treating (so many happy intact families with living kids), so we were going to turn off the porch light and leave the house. We'd have dinner out and see a movie. Seemed like a plan. William and I got into a HUGE fight that night. I don't remember the details but I do remember it came out of misunderstanding and miscommunication. I think each of us thought we knew what the other one was feeling and needed, and we just didn't. Neither of us even knew what we ourselves were feeling and needed. It was a miserable disaster.

Truth was, this minor holiday held major weight in our family history. It had always been a favorite we put a lot of time and love into. Without Rader it could never be the same.

That night is what made me realize I was going to need a lot more support and tools to get through the "holiday season." And so I found a nearby grief seminar, "Hope and Help for the Holidays and Beyond," held a couple of weeks later and featuring the above-mentioned Megan Devine. Hearing her speak, and reading her book I bought that day, It's OK That You're Not OK, set me on a path of learning about my own grief and how to be OK in it.

If you are a grieving person (it doesn't matter how long ago your loss has been), this year's free "Hope and Help" seminar is virtual, so you can attend from wherever you are. It's Tuesday, Nov. 16, via Zoom, with various sessions from 8:30 a.m.-4:15 p.m. EST. The keynote speaker is professor and author Dr. Kenneth Doka. Register here.

foundational: a love poem

And somehow we're already on our third Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month. This is the one that shows up each and every April. For this Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

1. Write a love poem and/or...

2. Write an anti-love poem.

Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

Love

has been the subject of
literal millions of poems
over thousands of years
and so who am I
to think I can think of
something about love
that hasn’t been said?

But I am the only one
who can speak to my own experience.
And so that, I can tell you about.

My love for Rader is
a force of such power
that I exhausted every idea
to help him find ease in this world;
I tried all possible avenues to save him.

And when those efforts failed,
when the object of that motherly love was gone,
still it beat and beat within me
and grew and grew until I could not contain it.

Until every day it spills over

drives the work that I do

is my Foundation.

poem-a-day: a city poem

For today's prompt, write a city poem. You can make the title of your poem the name of a city and write your poem. Or you can mention a city in your poem. And, of course, you can just set your poem in a city without naming which one it is. It's also okay, if you're more rurally inclined, to just write a poem about them city slickers. As always, have fun with it. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

#yeahTHATgreenville

Our city has a hashtag
because apparently there are Greenvilles
in 34 states
(and a couple of states have more than one?
that’s confusing)
but we think ours is the best

with our waterfall and its gorgeous park
in the middle of downtown
and the miles and miles of trails for walking, biking, and hiking
for our four distinct seasons
and our location just a couple hours away
from either mountains or beach

for our vibrant arts scene
and fantastic restaurants
— there’s always something new —
a reasonable cost of living,
and being a great place to raise kids

I’ve lived in five other cities
and even traveled abroad a little bit
but Greenville, S.C., is home.

Yeah, that Greenville.

a poem for world art day

Here we are: The half-way point. All downhill from here. For today's prompt, take the phrase "(blank) Story," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: "Toy Story," "Super Long Unusually Strange Story," and/or "Same Old Story." Poem your story, so we can get at the second half of this challenge. Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

World Art Day Story

[I found out today
my summer art camp for grownups
is a casualty of the pandemic again
this year as it was last year

but maybe, when I’m fully vaccinated,
I can find some classes I can take somewhere else]

I want to get clay under my fingernails
or paint in my hair
or glue on my hands
or feel the fire of the kiln on my face when I open its doors

I want what’s inside of me
to work its way out
tiptoeing
or roaring

To tell me something I didn’t know

To hold up a mirror and make me see

I want to have to just start
before I know what I’m making

I want to have to figure out
what new direction to take when it doesn’t go to plan

I want the art to take over

and say what I don’t know how to say.

---

World Art Day is an international celebration of the fine arts, which was declared by the International Association of Art (IAA/AIAP), a partner of UNESCO, to promote awareness of creative activity worldwide. The first World Art Day was held on April 15th, 2012, a date chosen in honor of Leonardo da Vinci's birthday. As a symbol of world peace, freedom of expression, tolerance and brotherhood, da Vinci is also a testament to the influence of the Fine Arts on other fields. In the United States, World Art Day was officially held for the first time in the City of Los Angeles on April 15th, 2015, and yearly thereafter. In 2017, IAA USA, the official U.S.-based chapter of the IAA, was formed. The Association looks forward to facilitating World Art Day celebrations locally, and nationwide. — iaa-usa.org/worldartday

poem-a-day: lucky?

First I want to say that I’m safe and basically functional, not in an overly worrisome state of mental health. But that I am having a much harder time this year with the poem-a-day deal than in years past. I’ve missed several days (starting Friday). Last Tuesday’s two-for I wrote on my phone in bed at the end of the day, but hadn’t typed in here until today. The other ones that aren’t here, I just have not attempted. (Yet! I have the intention. Time will tell if I can carry it out.) I have some time now and I do feel like writing is good for me (I just heard a quote on the Terrible, Thanks for Asking podcast where psychologist Edith Eger said the opposite of depression is expression, which resonates with me). So I’ll try today’s and then see if I can go back and write to some of the prompts I’ve missed.

Writer’s Digest’s Robert Lee Brewer says, “For this Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

1. Write a lucky poem and/or...

2. Write an unlucky poem.

---

lucky

I found two four-leaf clovers the other day
picked them and pressed them
between close and clue
in the big hardback dictionary

and when they were flat and dry,
stuck them to my refrigerator
with a magnet.

I don’t feel especially lucky
almost four years on
of living “every parent’s nightmare”
(a phrase I despise
partly because it’s true
and partly because)

no words encapsulate
that ____ night
(here I wasn’t able to come up with
a suitable adjective:
agonizing, terrible,
which just proves my point)
and the 1406 days since.

Life is hard
but I’m still here
and I can cry when I need to
and say what I feel
and someone will read this

I guess that’s lucky.

try this: write a metaphor poem

And just like that, we're starting week 2 of this challenge. It's time to roll up your sleeves (if you haven't already). For today's prompt, write a metaphor poem. A simile is when something is like a something else (example: I am like a tree); a metaphor is when something is something else (example: I am a tree). So take a moment to consider possible metaphors and then poem them out. Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

(Click here to check out all the 2021 April prompts.)

i am

the worn and tattered cloth
caught 40 feet up
in my neighbor’s tree
how did it even get there?

the bee
my dog jumps and snaps at
in his overgrown puppyish way
one day he’ll catch it
and it will die defending itself.

the water
in the creek behind my house
that flows unceasing, clear
until the storm comes
then fills its banks
and roils, opaque and angry.

the plant
above, reaching for the light
photosynthesizing;
below, roots growing and growing
for sustenance, stability,
enough to break the pot.

i am nothing,
and i am one thing,
and also all things.

i am

---

I really enjoyed this one, and I want to suggest you try it, too! Don’t worry about whether it makes sense or if you could defend your ideas to someone else. Just think about how you’re feeling, and find an object you can relate to, then put yourself in its place. The first thing I thought of that related to my state of mind was an old, tattered flag. Then I remembered the cloth I recently noticed up in the tree in my neighbor’s back yard, so that’s where I got started. The dog and I have been spending some time out on the deck (that’s where I was when I saw the cloth in the tree), and he’s really interested in trying to catch the bees that fly by. I just thought about the consequences when he finally gets one. And on from there.

april poem-a-day: faultfinding

For today's prompt, write a villain poem. You could write a persona poem from the perspective of a popular villain (like Count Dracula, Thanos, or Dolores Umbridge). Or write a poem with a person doing a villainous thing (like eating the last piece of pie or littering). As always, have fun with it. Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

faultfinding

who is to blame
whom do we find at fault

who stole
who killed
who destroyed?

we want to point the finger at someone

but when you orchestrated
your own death
we are left
without a villain

with only a consuming heartache
and the understanding
that you could see
no other way

and with the wish
that we could have had
one last chance
to persuade you
to hope against hope.

---

Would having someone to blame make us feel better? Be a relief? Bring us “closure”? Our brains are wired to seek answers, explanations, reasons. Yet I am acquainted with some grieving parents who lost children to other types of purposeful violence, or accidents in which a known person was clearly at fault — and knowing who did it is certainly not the end of their stories or their anguish. When you’ve lost a child, neither having nor not having a villain provides comfort.

when this is over: so much change

Today is the first Tuesday of the month. Veteran PAD participants know that means it's time for our first Two-for-Tuesday prompt of the month. You can pick one of the prompts, combine prompts, or write one poem for each prompt. For this Two-for-Tuesday prompt:

1. Write a change poem and/or...

2. Write a don't change poem.

Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

---

Author’s note: Virtually none of the ideas I wrote about here originated with me. Lots of other people have said the same things, asked the same questions, better, more eloquently. But if the point of poetry is expression, and you’re feeling something that’s common to a lot of other people, it’s OK to say it. To me one of the points of PAD is simply to get something, anything, out of your head and down on paper. Writing can release some of the pressure in there.

*I have known for months that COVIID-19 is rarely spread through contact with surfaces. But by then I was already in the habit of wiping things down, and it still seems like a good idea in general. I hope my “hygiene theater” is doing more good than bad.

**April 12, almost a week after I wrote this poem, an article came out in Slate Magazine that investigates these ideas far more deeply than I managed to in a few stanzas. Read it here: “I Do Not Trust People in the Same Way and I Don’t Think I Ever Will Again”

change

I know
trauma changes you

When this is ‘over’
(will there be an ‘over’?)
who will I be then?
In what way will I
reorder my priorities?

There’s been a lot of talk about
what ‘back to normal’
is going to look like
following a pandemic
with an airborne virus.

Have we seen the end of
blowing out birthday candles?
Since we’ve thought so much about
avoiding each other’s germs,
are we done with handshakes?
Will I ever go back to
NOT wiping down
frequently touched surfaces in my workplace*?
Will we still feel wary of crowds**
when this is ‘over’?
(I suspect I will.)

I saw a poll today
from Washington Post
reporting 62 percent of health care workers say
COVID-19 stress hurt their mental health.
Who the heck are the other 38 percent?
I don’t know anyone
who falls into that category.

As far as I can see
we are all coming out of this
changed.

poem a day: the first ____

Happy Monday! Let's put the pedal to the metal and keep poeming.

(Click here to check out all the 2021 April prompts.)

For today's prompt, take the phrase "The First (blank)," replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: "The First Kiss," "The First Day of the Month," and/or "The First Time I Rode a Bike" (which, by the way, ended with me in a fence, because we didn't cover how to brake). Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

The First Shot

Sunday, March 21, 2021, 7:10 p.m.
“County Public Health has vaccine appointments available. Individuals 18 years old or older who wish to receive a COVID-19 vaccine, please call the County Call Center to register and schedule an appointment.”

I call Monday morning;
they say I can come that afternoon and take my chances
that leftover doses will be available.
So soon!
But I can’t work it out, so I
make an appointment for Thursday
and the follow-up four weeks after.

I teach my indoor rowing class in the morning
and leave straight from the gym.
Get there early and join the car line.
Fill out a page of paperwork;
read through the packet of information and disclosures
every time the cars stop.

Finally I am getting close.
Mask on, window down,
sleeve pulled up, arm relaxed.

The first shot!
A Clifford the Big Red Dog bandage.
A sticky note with the time written on it
is affixed to my dashboard, and
my car is directed into the 15-minute line
for those of us without a history of bad medical reactions.
I feel fine. I feel fine!

I feel fine.

day 4 poem: not that simple

For today's prompt, write an active poem. That could be a poem comprised of active (vs passive) verbs. But it could also be about exercising, playing a sport, or keeping your mind active. Any activity would do, I suppose, even watching the paint dry. Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them.— Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

In Action; Inaction

Why is it
I feel so confident about
what I think everyone else should do?
What actions they should take
and how their lives would be so much better
how things would just work out
if they made the choices I think they should?

And yet
every day
in my own life
there are things I don’t know how to handle,
situations I’m not sure how to approach,
decisions where I can’t sort out the pros from cons,

I’m overwhelmed,
mired in inaction.

---

This isn’t just a rhetorical question, and when I think about it, I actually do have at least part of an answer: nuance. When it’s someone outside of myself, I apply much more logic and much less emotional weight. (And most of the time, I think I keep my opinions to myself. I’m not big on offering unsolicited advice.) But when it’s time to advise myself about what actions I should take, all the nuances of the various outcomes enter into play, and the line between the “right’ choice and the “wrong” choice becomes much fuzzier. To where it’s not right or wrong, not good or bad, but maybe better and worse. Or easier in the short term vs. more productive in the long term. Nuance.

poem-a-day: loud and clear

For today's prompt, write a communication poem. All poems communicate something, I know, but I'm thinking of different ways people can communicate: text message, letter, signs, and even speaking dialogue. Of course, there are forms of communication as well, because people love communicating. — Robert Lee Brewer, Writer’s Digest

loud and clear

It has been said that
having a child is
letting your heart
walk around outside of your body.

And so when you lose one,
but still have one,
the temptation to put a cage around it
can be almost all-consuming.

When that one
then leaves the nest
because it was time,

You learn to say “I love you”
to each other
long distance
in a lot of little ways,

And one of those is
exchanging pictures of cute dogs
on Instagram.

poem-a-day challenge, day 2: the future

2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 2

Write a poem every day of April with the 2021 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. For today's prompt*, write a "what does the future hold" poem.

the return of peace

I hope the future holds
the return of peace
to my mind and body

I have been on edge
for so very long now
precisely because
there's no way to know
what the future holds.

"Unprecedented"
was the word of the year
but I don't want to list
the things lost,
the things missed.

It also hurts to hope
to let myself dream
to imagine
what does the future hold?

Note: I've fallen so far out of practice with writing in the past year, as just getting through each day seemed like all I could ask for. Now that it's poetry month and I've decided to answer the prompt every day again, I am really struggling to find my voice. I'm taking the approach of just writing something, anything, regardless of its quality. And hopeful for the future (!) that as I sit down to write day after day, it will start to flow again and I can persist enough to begin to produce some pieces that are actually good work.

---

*Robert Lee Brewer, senior editor, Writer’s Digest

Wow! That was an exciting first day of poeming. Today, we're actually going to do something a little different than normal (on the second day already).

For today's prompt, I want you to answer the question, "What does the future hold?" Then, make your answer the title of your poem and write your poem. Your answer could a general idea about the future like "Robots Will Rule the World" or a more personal thing like "Veggie Pizza and Sweet Tea." Even if it's not in your title, I'm hopeful the future holds a lot more poeming.

Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them.

april is poetry month

2021 April PAD Challenge: Day 1

by Robert Lee Brewer, senior editor, Writer’s Digest
Write a poem every day of April with the 2021 April Poem-A-Day Challenge. For today's prompt, write an introduction poem.
Here we are with the first day of the 2021 April Poem-A-Day Challenge! Each day, I'll provide a poetry prompt and a poem to get things started. You can secretly poem along at home, or you can share your poem in the comments below.
For today's prompt, write an introduction poem. Introduce yourself, introduce a friend, or introduce a stranger. If you don't wish to introduce yourself, consider writing a persona poem (a poem in which you write from someone else's point of view like Emily Dickinson or a bumblebee). Of course, you could also introduce a problem, solution, or just a situation. Have fun with it!

Remember: These prompts are springboards to creativity. Use them to expand your possibilities, not limit them.

Introduction

In dog school,
my pup Kansas is learning
"make a friend"
where he is required
to hold his enthusiasm in check
at least a little
when meeting people or their dogs.

It means he waits for permission
to move forward to greet them
to introduce himself, all wagging tail and eager nose.

But no paws to the chest or face full of kisses.
An affectionate greyhound
can be a little much
for the unprepared!
So we will work on our manners
and make lots of friends.