Bad, Sad Poetry and the Quiet Moon

I was scrolling through my phone tonight looking for an old password, when I saw a note from 2021 titled “I wish I felt.” The drama! I had to read it.

As backstory, like many new moms, the first year of my daughter’s life was joyous – but also darkened with anxiety and uncertainty unlike anything I’d ever experienced. In the thick of that, my husband and I went to the beach for a weekend, just us. We ate at nice restaurants, slept in past sunrise, and did all the other things we couldn’t with a baby. I was still struggling with anxiety, but for the first time in months, I felt free. I felt alive. I felt … drunk.

So I did what any sad, wine-buzzed copywriter would do.

I wrote a poem. *clears throat, taps mic*

***

I wish I felt

Like this

With her

When the anxiety melts

And it’s just me

The real me, not the me

Sing-songy and big smiles and don’t touch thats

But the me who was here

Before

And who visits with the quiet moon

I think she’d like that me more

***

The self-loathing! The turmoil! The QUIET MOON!!!

My first reaction to reading the poem was to laugh. I mean, it’s terrible. Poetry isn’t my thing. But then I read it again – and this time, I felt victorious.

You don’t always get to see how far you’ve come. There aren’t report cards for real life, but this poem comes close to that for me. Because as I read those words from 2 years ago – and though I can remember how I felt writing bad, sad poetry on the dark condo patio – I’m not there anymore.

And I’m just so proud to say that. And to be where I am. And most importantly, to have no more poems about the moon, quiet or not. 🌙