Shownotes
Ash and Gardens
Jessica Sorya
She asks me, “What did I want at nineteen
that I have now?”
I answer,
“Nothing. Everything I wanted is gone.”
Every man I pedestaled, fell.
toppled over, head heavy.
Bless ‘em.
Cowards.
I’ve always been surrounded by women
scurrying,
cleaning dirt from their nails,
scrubbing blood from tile,
handling shit
when shit needed handling.
They stitched silence into their spines,
only let loose
when the liquor was heavy.
You should have seen them,
the men, watching
as they carried entire families
without flinching.
They’d bend,
but would not break,
even when the weight
wasn’t theirs to carry.
And me?
I studied.
Took notes.
Learned to smile through clenched jaw,
mastered love
without needing return.
I’m no longer building altars for ghosts,
fighting battles
while worshipping control.
Quieting my voice
to keep another’s strong.
I’m no longer burning myself
to keep their ego warm.
Let them fall.
I come from women who rise,
carrying handfuls of ash,
sifted through calloused fingers
and still.
Even still.
After everything has gone,
We plant gardens
and sow songs
More from Jessica Sorya ↓
You can listen to me read another poem by Jessica over on Instagram @rembrandts.cure
Mentioned in this episode:
One Poem Only submissions are now open.
I’m looking for poetry that lets the light in.
Selected works from this submission period will be episodes around the winter solstice. In the ancient tradition, I’m looking for words that celebrate rebirth, renewal, and a return to the light.
Deadline is Thursday, October 30.
One Poem Only Submissions Form
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