Take your broken heart & turn it into art
- Wren Jones
- Apr 4
- 1 min read
After my mother’s funeral
I go to art school in the forest.
After caregiving, cancer and chemo
I choose whites and pinks, yellows and greens,
matching sympathy bouquets.
After weeks of hospice chair sleeping
I cut tiles and glass, glue stones and beads.
After our difficult relationship has ended
I make art all week in that sun-filled studio.
After fifteen years hanging on my wall,
I remember the gifts arising from grief.
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NaPrWriMo prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own poem about living with a piece of art.
