expose my roots in warm sunlight
soften all stems
let pearls fall
lean in closer
geosmin scented breath
see how twisted old thoughts grow
don’t go yet
shine through the particles
show me yours
9/100
For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
one time i stood
under a flowering pear tree
in my wild backyard
and thought, this is good.
it was warm
and i’d just finished nursing my baby girl.
she heavy-slept in a sling
on my freckled chest.
her hair was red
and my feet were bare.
one time i stood
on a street in london
in my doc martens
and thought, this is good.
it was warm
and i’d just toured buckingham palace
pretending i belonged.
steaming tea, a double-decker bus.
my dress was red
and my socks were yellow.
one time i stood
all alone
in my choked bedroom—
the air was hot,
the bed unmade—
a shadow stretched
over drifts of laundry
left to fold.
my face was red,
the pen denting my thumb,
and i thought,
is this good?
5/100
For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
lizards dart out of the bushes
every time I open the front door
rustling warnings when I don’t
need them. wrote the word
connection over and over within
lined pages of my green
goddess notebook, planning
return of self, for self, to others
or is it for others? today, tomorrow—
each day is another chance
for words to gather within
my apron pockets if only fingers
weren’t so tired. or
slippery. forgiveness given
when not asked for, makes arms
ache for something lost. no, never
was. illusions rustle whispering
here we go again, eat until full
this time. don’t worry about crumbs—
you don’t have to clean everything
everyone—
you can rustle too
whenever you want.
1/100
For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
“She did not succumb to the battering of the brutal elements in her life. No, instead, with nourishment and strength from those surrounding her, and from her own deep, strong roots, she continued to grow; not just grow but thrive! So much so that she did not buckle under the weight that was not her own.”—Claudia
For the month of June, my model was my lovely friend Claudia. We met during sunrise, to avoid the heat, and our time together was magical. We wandered the same wooded area I had taken photos in last month, but it looked different, more golden and less dark green. I focused my camera on capturing her lovely energy, smile, and how she connects to nature.
I met Claudia when our kids started first grade together. My first memory of her is volunteering together to paint the school office. She was working hard (something I learned is how she’s wired) and we got to talking. I instantly knew she’d be someone I wanted in my life. She’s caring and kind, but doesn’t allow boundaries to be crossed. She’s a loving mother who taught her kids to speak up for themselves and is the very epitome of unconditional love.
I’ve seen my friend go through some very rough times in the last few years and really focus on healing. She’s in such a good place right now and I saw it, radiating off her (see the photos at the end for photographic evidence, maybe?) I’m really loving these sessions with my friends and can’t wait to keep growing and sharing my photos with you all.
Enjoy!
What makes you proud?
Watching my kids advocate for themselves and set boundaries, and knowing that I provide well for them, not just physical needs but in all of the ways that matter makes me really proud.
What makes you feel brave?
Reminding myself of how much healing and growth I have done these past few years makes me feel brave.
What gives you hope?
Trusting the path that the universe has set for me, believing that it has good things for me, and reminding myself that it has always taken care of me (even though I endured a lot of pain and trauma), gives me hope.
When we first starting taking photos together, I told my friend to just take a moment to look around the woods. Relax a minute and feel the energy. I snapped this shot. Although it’s most likely just a unique sun flare, my first thought when I opened the image was “did I capture her aura?” I had to share it with you all too.
And here’s some extras, just because I like them:
These were taken with my Olympus E-M1 MarkII, using several different lenses and edited with Lightroom Classic. Let me know what you think, and check out the others in this series if you missed them.
“A winner is a loser who tried one more time.
Not the smartest.
Not the fastest.
Just the one who didn’t stop.”
—George M. Moore Jr.
For the month of March, my model was my dear friend Penny. I met her in 2013 at the table read for the Listen to Your Mother stage show. We locked eyes across the table, and instantly connected. She possesses a warmth and kindness that allows her to make people feel profoundly seen, a rare gift. She’s a singer, writer, storyteller, caregiver, and one of my favorite people on the planet.
We met last week at the beautiful St. Ignatius Loyola Catholic Church, where she sings as cantor. The space was gorgeous, and she was a natural at posing. We only had an hour to spend together because of our schedules, but we made the most of it. She trusted me fully, and I think it shows in the way she’s looking at the camera/me.
Penny normally doesn’t like her photo taken, but she said it was fun with me. And she loved the photos! That’s the whole point: helping my friend see her own beauty. Each time I do another shoot, my confidence grows and I’m learning more and more. I’m so grateful for this growth! Please, give her some love in the comments below and tell me what you think of this shoot. Do you have a favorite? Do you see improvement in the quality of these photos?
What makes you proud?
For most of my life I have been able to do what I loved, what I was good at and things that made a difference on the planet. The fact that I usually also got paid was icing on the cake.
What makes you feel brave?
I’ve been a family caregiver for over 30 years. If that didn’t break me, nothing will.
What gives you hope?
Children. They are the future. The fact that God keeps sending them is a sign that He hasn’t given up on us yet.
Thank you to everyone who is cheering me on with my photography. I’ve been very focused on it lately, but I’m still writing. I’ll be sharing some words soon. Promise!
Let’s pretend you are a door and I slam you hard. You rock in your frame briefly and wonder why I’m so mad. You don’t say anything though, because you are a door. I wash you with a soft pink cloth the next day until you shine. I tell you I love you and I’ll slam you again. You forgive me because you are a door.
Let’s pretend I’m a door and you always walk through me. I try to look nice but my wood is splintering and my handle is loose. You don’t notice though, because I’m a door. It’s not until you get a splinter from my wood you see me. You tell everyone to look at how broken I am. I say nothing because I’m a door.
Let’s pretend two doors meet each other in a long hallway. Just a couple of doors out for a walk. “You look broken,” the polished door says. “You do too,” the broken door says. They lean against each other saying nothing else, because they are doors.
no experience fighting
speaking my words
changing your mind
I throw black tar at you
hoping it sticks
until it does
vomiting old wounds
without my mask
there’s nothing left
but burning guts
destruction looks ugly
and so do I
you run from me
now a villainous fool
as I cover myself
folding up again
swallowing my poison
with a glass of wine
yesterday sunlight told me
put away winter things
pay attention to thirst
grass wants to be green
yesterday body told me
old stories can die
swallow up light
trust what flowers say
today I listen
shaking from pride or nerves
never can I tell
press wound
apply greater pressure
still don’t feel it
forget deep, give me soft
fault lines carved from neglect
don’t take much to shift
plates want to move
quakes mean I’m alive
“You’ll never run again,” he says without looking at me. Cutting words. Biting words. Meant probably to inspire words. Didn’t mean it like that words. Nevertheless, hurting words. Shutting the door behind me, I eat my words. Chocolate-covered words that push back oceans. Candy-coated red words I keep in my purse. Fast food words meant to stop accident words and cops at my front door words and friends who don’t call any more words and razors cutting my baby’s arms words and a dad who won’t talk to me words and it’s probably time to move on words and some people I love have died words.
“I used to run,” I tell the faint sliver moon. Used to, but now my knee hurts, my hip feels tight, and there’s so much more of me. I’m too big. Too big for clothes in the regular part of the store. Too big I might break lawn chairs if I sit down too fast. Too big I must turn sideways to fit through turnstiles. Too big but still the pain swells to fit in all the cracks. Too big but still men like the one who slipped something into my drink and took me in the bathroom still look at me and smile. Too big for feeling this lost. Too big for all this love I have. Too big for all the love I don’t have.
I walk in my new bright shoes. I walk in the dark, so nobody will see me. But I see. I see how the shadow of a bush can look like a dolphin. I see how the street lights turn the gutter into a golden river. I see a tiny solar light create a white starburst across the dark pavement. I see how my breath comes easier when I move. I see how I’ve fallen in love with words and Peter Pan and vulnerability and truth. I see how pain can be stuck but then unstuck. I see how running isn’t the goal, but that nobody should ever say nevers to people they love. I see how I’m still walking. I’m still walking.
Bridgette Tales 