by Jennifer Rodrigues
To the Woman Crying on the Porch of a House on Rose Street
—after Kim Addonizio
Don’t choke it back.
Let the tears flow.
Like all rivers do, yours will eventually meet the ocean.
At the mouth of this sacred estuary
you will find affinity
for saline and turbulence. Feel the scend.
Be swept.
The water knows each of us by name.
Only the self-forsaken confuse its voice for violence
so listen, over and over, to how you get hurt.
Swallow each and every wave
until you grow so heavy
you beg for the ease of the pull.
Sink
deep enough to lose the sun for stillness.
Sink until you meet the sorrows
of grandmothers, mothers, aunties, sisters—
blood and chosen
known and unknown—
waiting
in the aphotic abyss, glowing.
Here, you can remember how to be your own light.
Only then will you will see that nothing is missing.
Jen Fabish began writing poetry in late 2019, when a gratitude challenge prompted her to take a walk and write a haiku about it. She’s been writing ever since from her home in Berkeley, CA. Her work is forthcoming in the anthology Facing Goodbye (Wee Sparrow Poetry Press, 2024). Instagram: @j.fabish.
Jennifer Rodrigues currently lives on the sacred Powhatan land of Fairfax, VA. She is trained as a certified yoga therapist & trauma informed yoga teacher, is a queer military spouse, mom, & neurodivergent superhuman. She has been featured in many lovely literary journals & anthologies, & has been nominated for Best of the Net with her photography. Find her on Insta @gmoneyfunklove.