Suzanne Edison, MA, MFA

Poet • Educator

Poems

Poetry helps me find “the place beyond words.” We poets use words to point ourself and others toward those ineffable places. When this water of 'being' is running through me, I write for the joy of participating and the hope of learning something new. If my words then touch others I am rewarded a second time.

By

Poem published in JAMA (Journal of the American Medical Association)

 

I am happy to announce the publication of my poem, Still Life Without Skull on April 17, 2018 in the Journal of the American Medical Association.

While writing about the experiences my child and I have gone through is painful at times, I fundamentally believe that by trying to capture those moments, feelings and events in writing. I find an order from the chaos they brought.  And I hope that these words might reach others who’ve gone through similar experiences, thereby making a connection and helping them feel less alone.

By

The Seattle Review of Books

I’m glad to have a poem selected for the Tuesday poem at The Seattle Review of Books. Each week, on Tuesday, come and read a new poem. And check out their book reviews too!

By

Wait

A friend, who attended the memorial service for the boy who took his life last week, gave me this poem by Galway Kinnell. I wish that something or someone could have intervened in his young life, asked him to wait, to tell him, “it does get better.” Sometimes you don’t know or realize the depth of despair or pain that someone is harboring; they may seem engaged, active and outwardly joyful. And no matter how attuned we may be as parents, we can never fully know another’s inner realities. This is the agony and dark side of individuality, love isn’t always enough to shelter those we care most about.

You can also hear Galway reading his poem here.

Wait
Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven’t they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.

Wait.
Don’t go too early.
You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

Galway Kinnell

By

Review of The Moth Eaten World

Thank you to Mindy Kronenberg for her thoughtful words in The Mom Egg Review of my chapbook, The Moth Eaten World. This is a good literary magazine for issues surrounding all aspects of mothering.