A Prayer for My Belly

& thoughts on connection and hope + free writing workshop reminder

Part of our loneliness is the distance we have from ourselves. The ways in which we have disowned parts of our bodies or suppressed emotions we are “not supposed to feel.” But they live. Somewhere. In our hearts, our bellies, our skin, our cells, our bones, our backs…

Part of this is cultural. Part of this is just the time period in which we grew up. Part of this is habitual lack of empathy, or curiosity, or fear, or time, or the belief that we are valuable by just being us.

But I have hope. For me, for us, for the world. And I believe things are changing. Through all the noise and all the collapsing, and all the grief, I see so many of you out there keeping faith, creating community, helping others, sharing gratitude, teaching poetry, art, movement, breath work. Writing, sharing, building, fixing. Reclaiming making food, clothing, furniture, shoes. Restoring our relationship with the animals, the land, the water... and with ourselves.

My poem, “A Prayer for My Belly,” is from my bod…