I’m finding that in the midst of grief, I need to marvel at the wonders of my normal life: this morning I drafted a poem.

I didn’t get to spend much time writing last semester since I was teaching 4 classes with 110 students, but this semester I have half the number of students and 3 classes. I have a couple of mornings free to work in my office, and I intend to spend at least the first hour writing. How miraculous that I ever have the time and inclination to create. I’m working on a project that I’m tentatively calling All That Remains. It uses one chapter from each book of the Bible as a word bank, and the poems end up serving as strange retellings. I think. Part of the excitement is that this project keeps shifting, and I’m not sure where it will end up taking me. I started this project because I was angry with some people for taking biblical language out of context and using it as a weapon. I’m still angry about that, but the poems have turned into something less angry and more playful than I anticipated. I’m thankful that I get to do this work.

After my writing time, a dear friend stopped by my office on her way to work. She bought two of my poetry chapbooks for her cousin, and we chatted for a bit over Earl Grey tea and chocolate pretzel granola bars.

Now I’m going to prepare for tomorrow’s classes. I love teaching college students about poetry and language. I have no doubt that grief will attack me again before the day is over, but what a wonderful morning I’ve had.

“It is difficult / to get the news from poems / yet men die miserably every day / for lack / of what is found there.” – William Carlos Williams, “Asphodel, That Greeny Flower”