with no punctuation, this free-verse poem creates a sense of immediacy and intensity.
its uninterrupted flow of statements burst throughout the text block. they read as a litany
that swells toward intimacy. the primary presence in the poem is love, a love is so big,
even demons carry a map of heaven in their scars.

trauma is not sacred

violence is not special pain is not holy suffering does not make angels abuse

defines no one you are more than the things that hurt you you are more than

the people you have hurt do not make an altar to your woundedness do not

make a fetish out of mine a body belongs to no one a memory is not made to

be eaten does it titillate you to hear about assault if i told you my story would

you swallow it whole if i confessed my sins would you feed me to the beasts to

purge your own i will show you mine if you show me yours we have all seen

the darkness now give us the dawn tell me about the joy you keep in the hol-

low spaces between your bones tell me again how you laughed when you re-

alized that you were not wholly unlovable i’ll tell you again how i cried when my

best friend told me that I was not a bad person remember how we used to

count the lines on our palms when we were little how we used to try to read

the future for its gifts how we used to make lists of the things we would dream

of when finally we were free i will make you a list of the things i’m grateful

for i will sing you a litany of reasons to be alive i want to know the songs you

wake up for in the morning i want to marvel at the unbelievable graciousness

of your being i know that i am capable of pouring love like lavender oil into

your cupped palms there is forgiveness like honey pooled in the chambers of

our hearts you are the thing i am most grateful for all bodies know how to heal

themselves given enough time all demons carry a map of heaven in their scars

beneath the skin of every history of trauma

there is a love poem waiting deep below

By Kai Cheng Thom, from 44 Poems on Being with Each Other: A Poetry Unbound Collection.
Curated by Pádraig Ó Tuama.

Copyrighted material; for inspirational purposes only.
Learn more about Kai Cheng Thom.

Visit the big ‘ol super-duper POTM archive.

Happy National Poetry & Earth Month!
St. Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179) was a polymath; a poetess and environmentalist;
a nun, theologian, visionary and botanist who loved the earth. In her cosmology, Wisdom
is a Cosmic Mother, a dazzling Divine Feminine whose viriditas, or greening power, gives life
and sustains the cosmos. This spiritual force is a creative energy, a nourishing presence that’s
active in the world and all things. In Hildegard’s writings and visions, Wisdom speaks in first person.

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A Blessing: May you behold the world with reverence and awe. May you know desire as a magnetizing
force for goodness and love. May the greening power within you fertilize your heart.

[I Am the one]

I am the one
whose praise echoes on high.

I adorn all the earth.

I am the breeze
that nurtures all things green.

I encourage blossoms
to flourish with ripening fruits.

I am led by the spirit
to feed the purest streams.

I am the rain coming from the dew
that causes the grasses to laugh with the joy of life.

I call forth tears,
the aromas of holy work.

I am the yearning
for good.

By Hildegard von Bingen, from Meditations with Hildegard of Bingen; trans. by Gabriele Uhlein.
Image: Hildegard von Bingen, from Liber Divinorum Operum (Book of Divine Works).

Music: Hildegard von Bingen: 11,000 Virgins. Anonymous 4. Monophonic, serene, luminous.

Check out the big ol’ poetry archive.

Try this: Celebrate National Poetry Month! Write an I am poem in the spirit of Hildegard’s. Personify wisdom, earth or nature. What goodness do you offer the world? What blessings do you bestow upon Mother Earth? Avec amour, Krayna

This enigmatic poem suggests an intimacy with mystery; we will recognize what our poet
is saying – or we won’t. It’s ok. Instead of trying to dig into meaning, let the poem work its magic.
Absorb its images, its metaphors. Notice what it causes you to wonder, remember, feel, or long for.
Let it gently nudge you: When has your life opened? Avec amour, Krayna XO

Three Times My Life Has Opened
Three times my life has opened.
Once, into darkness and rain.
Once, into what the body carries at all times within it and starts
to remember each time it enters the act of love.
Once, to the fire, that holds all.
These three were not different.
You will recognize what I am saying or you will not.
But outside my window all day a maple has stepped from her leaves
like a woman in love with winter, dropping the colored silks.
Neither are we different in what we know.
There is a door. It opens. Then it is closed. But a slip of light
stays, like a scrap of unreadable paper left on the floor,
or the one red leaf the snow releases in March.

Jane Hirschfield, from The Lives of the Heart.
Copyrighted; for inspirational purposes only.

The poetry archive awaits: www.clearlenscoaching.com/poetry-archive/

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Bonus poem by Rumi, from Gold;versions by Haleh Liza Garori.
In memory of Coleman Barks: RIP. In gratitude for his extraordinary translations of Rumi’s poetry.
He died February 23 2026. (Excuse the less than stellar photo!)

[If you quit thinking for one hour]