Friday, July 13, 2012


Almost everything tells
me news of the demolished
we craved.
When the speechless hinge
of loss
sings to my invisible
I surrender and become
its tender plaything.
At home in the story
you left me, I
hide inside the noise
of silence
and slowly start to
hear the praise
breathing in its
ancient room.

©Laura Sorrells 2012
all rights reserved


  1. What a meaningful inscription this would be within a card to someone who is grieving.
    I hope it isn't you at this moment.

  2. well, it is, but I'd rather feel the grief (which I keep thinking I'm all done with) than let it make me crazy by not allowing myself to grieve this lost relationship. I'm all right. I'm glad you liked this.

  3. What a deep, beautiful yet tragic, poem. Thanks for sharing and may those ancient rooms continue to breath healing praise into your soul.

  4. Thank you. They do, all the time, sage.

  5. is this completely perverse - i imagine it as my own poem for a future. one looks forward in many surprising ways)))

    you write grief beautifully. i dare say you live it beautifully, as well. it does not lessen the pain to accept it but i think perhaps it widens the growth)))


  6. thank you, erin. I am at least trying to live it consciously. the grief I feel includes, I think, grief for my mom, who died several years ago, not just this three-year relationship with my boyfriend, who was also a dear old friend.
    no, it isn't perverse at all. I read a poem tonight that felt like a foregrounding of sorts for me somehow. a shivery thing.
    I am so glad you read my blog. thanks again. peace, laura

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About Me

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Georgia, United States
I live at the edge of the forest in a little town in the north Georgia mountains. I teach sixth grade Language Arts and am writing a memoir of sorts about family, spirituality, and narrative. I am also exploring a possible writing project having to do with contemporary lay contemplative experience and how it might be informed by the Desert Fathers and Mothers of early Christianity. I am a relatively recent convert to Roman Catholicism and an admirer of Pope Francis, Leonardo Boff, Joan Chittister, and Richard Rohr. I'm a Lay Associate of Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery in Conyers, Georgia. I am interested in indigenous cultures, narratives, and spirituality, especially how these can inform my spirituality as a lay contemplative. I write, read, take pictures, play around with creating ephemera from paper and cloth and other organic things. I cook, hike, watch wildlife, and collect random bits of interesting oddness, both tangible and abstract. I am a seer of smallness and a caretaker of ridiculous minutiae. If you want, e-mail me at or