About sarahwbartlett

voice midwife and advocate for marginalized women; creative spirit seeking space; lover of dark chocolate, gardens, my family and words; visual, tactile, kinesthetic learner; world traveler, homebody

third time’s a charm

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This image pretty much says it all: twelve poems in twelve hours. Third time around. Completed all 12 each time. Now the question is: are any of them worthy of the light of day? We’ll see over the coming period of time …

Meanwhile, may I also congratulate my fellow poets who did either the Half Marathon (12 poems in 12 hours) or the Full Marathon (24 poems in 24 hours). It is a tribute to stamina, creativity, and poetic determination. We persisted!!!

coming home

sunset w mistA piece just up at MomEggReview, ‘Coming Home’ shares my love of Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. It is also the basis for my husband and I moving our young family there some 23 years back. Not to the NE Kingdom, but to VT. Which is another story… How Chittenden County – which houses Burlington where we ended up the last 8 years, but also Jericho, our first 14 – is said to have the advantage of being near VT. The ‘real’ VT being God’s country, the afore-mentioned NE Kingdom.

While life ‘near’ VT – on the other side of Mt. Mansfield and in its shadow – saw our younger three children through high school and into the colleges of their choices, the early years of vacationing at “The Verm”* established a foundation for a deep sense of place, a shared vocabulary of experience and meaning for us as a family.

During this time of social distancing and staying put, it is oddly comforting that MomEggReview has released this wonderful collection of non-fiction essays called “Here at Home.” What better time to reflect on what home really means, especially as we might be temped to feel trapped or triggered by small things that begin to feel huge. For my part, I stand by this writing. While my soul home has shifted from the mountains of VT to the shore of MA, I still get the familiar anticipatory shiver up my spine as I drive that final five miles; still look for Clarence and Clarissa; still enjoy lingering sunsets. Still bask in the peace and invigoration of communion with earth, air, stars.

* My dad coined the term ‘microverm’ to describe my parents’ dream spot – a little piece of Vermont – during the decades they searched for it. The name stuck, shortened, once they found this corner of heaven some 50 years ago.

 

Five Poems for my Late Husband

pier 1It seems I haven’t posted anything for 16 months. Sounds about right, that being the approximate period of the final slide of my beloved husband’s physical health toward the end. So it seems fitting that what I post today is a selection of the poems I’ve been working on in that time. They are part of a larger collection I am hoping to complete and publish in the near future. Whatever that actually means today… But my intention remains clear.

If you are dealing with your own loss – or struggling to help a loved one through tough illness – or just looking for some serious love poems, these may be what you need today. In any case, I appreciate your time and attention to them; and as always, welcome your comments, responses, associations and stories.

http://www.sixfold.org/PoWinter19/Bartlett.html