The Journal
Poems about rage, motherhood, politics, grief, awakening and the refusal to be quiet. New work posted as it happens. Read, share, feel something.
Can You Even Imagine?
I didn’t mean to cry today
not in the cereal aisle.
Not because of war.
But I thought about my boy,
his Spiderman pyjamas,
the way he skips when he runs…
There’s no spreadsheet for this feeling
It’s 7:44am. I’m already tired. There’s one odd sock again. Never two. Who knows where that other one goes. There’s grated cheese on the floor and a child saying, “Can I go on the iPad now?” before I’ve even finished wiping the tears from that video of a mother in Gaza digging her baby out of rubble…