Well, damn those walls. The thing about walls is… they crack, they crumble. And you can thank entropy for that. It takes work to keep that wall up, but at what cost? My answer was… a week off on stress leave yay 🫠. Hugs through the ether holly olly. You deserve bluebells and joy ✨
I enjoyed how they exist somewhere between observation and goodbye. Not really a goodbye, but more like a meditation - a person living inside memory, never quite able to leave it.
I don't think this is "not really a poem." I think it's what happens when someone stops trying to sound poetic and starts telling the truth. The image of the wall is painfully recognizable—not because it explains trauma, but because it explains survival. And the ending stayed with me most: "I don't cry, I write poems for you." Sometimes writing isn't the opposite of feeling. It's simply the form feeling takes when tears cannot arrive.
Thank you so much Antonio I just wanted to explain this outright and just went for it I’m glad you appreciated it and I didn’t think of it as survival but maybe you’re right maybe it is
This felt like standing in a Houston dusk ... quiet, heavy, honest. You call it “not a poem,” but it’s exactly what free verse is: truth shaped into breath. The wall you describe is not a flaw ... I recognized it. It’s a survival structure. Elders don’t shame the wall; they notice it.
That vomiting‑at‑the‑ceiling memory isn’t just a detail. It’s a story fragment ... the kind that shows a young person who’s lived through chaos, through caretaking, through moments where she had to be the steady one.
Your piece is a song. A free‑verse confession. A medicine story. You might not see it yet because you’re still close to the pain, but the act of writing it is the act of healing.
Native wisdom would say: “A wall is a winter home. But spring always comes.”
Your spring is beginning ... you’re feeling again, writing instead of numbing, learning the season of your own heart. Sit with your wall. Listen to it. It will tell you when it is time.
I enjoyed this. While crying is an evolutionary trait, the 'nurture' of life should make one question its despotism over certain emotional events. This poem gets you thinking about all sorts of erroneous prejudgments we can so easily make. When art does that, the artist wins.
Oof yes I experience this, especially in therapy. No therapeutic crying for me because: YOU ARE WATCHING ME could there be anything more creepy. I digress. Also AuDHD always says you’ll be calm and deal with the shit in the moment, it’s how we are wired 🖤🖤🖤
I am diagnosed adhd but have often wondered about the aud aspect. The initial assessment I did say no further questions were necessary and it was a no and that is because i do very well with social cues I am able to perform in social settings pretty well it takes a price from me though I have considered seeing about further testing
Is the diagnosis useful to you, like getting access to therapy you really want? Don’t answer here of course but if I put my used-to- be- a -therapist hat on for just a moment, I can say diagnoses don’t touch the soul of what is needed for healing, which is usually safety and the presence of a witness, who allows us to be present to our own experiences. Your “it isn’t a poem,” here tells the truth of your experience. To me that’s what healing is. And to take that hat off again, as a poet, I reckon, as others here have said, I want to say thank you for your strong poem. You’ll take the wall down in good time, probably you already are, or at least you’ll put a gate in it. 🌺💚
Thank you Vivien that give me a lot to think about and I appreciate you taking the time to share some of your wisdom I have started doing some internal work on my own maybe I will reach out for some lessons on how to further that
Ugh the wall. I know it well. You are so talented, Olly.
im not happy that you have to deal with the wall as well but wasn’t sure if others felt this same way we are the wall sisters cheers!
Wall sisters! Yes, it is at least good to feel less alone in it.
Well, damn those walls. The thing about walls is… they crack, they crumble. And you can thank entropy for that. It takes work to keep that wall up, but at what cost? My answer was… a week off on stress leave yay 🫠. Hugs through the ether holly olly. You deserve bluebells and joy ✨
"this isn't really a poem"
It is to me.
I enjoyed how they exist somewhere between observation and goodbye. Not really a goodbye, but more like a meditation - a person living inside memory, never quite able to leave it.
Thank you Jeanne I appreciate you !
I don't think this is "not really a poem." I think it's what happens when someone stops trying to sound poetic and starts telling the truth. The image of the wall is painfully recognizable—not because it explains trauma, but because it explains survival. And the ending stayed with me most: "I don't cry, I write poems for you." Sometimes writing isn't the opposite of feeling. It's simply the form feeling takes when tears cannot arrive.
Thank you so much Antonio I just wanted to explain this outright and just went for it I’m glad you appreciated it and I didn’t think of it as survival but maybe you’re right maybe it is
"I don't cry, I write poems for you." Oof. <3
Dear Ms. Von,
This felt like standing in a Houston dusk ... quiet, heavy, honest. You call it “not a poem,” but it’s exactly what free verse is: truth shaped into breath. The wall you describe is not a flaw ... I recognized it. It’s a survival structure. Elders don’t shame the wall; they notice it.
That vomiting‑at‑the‑ceiling memory isn’t just a detail. It’s a story fragment ... the kind that shows a young person who’s lived through chaos, through caretaking, through moments where she had to be the steady one.
Your piece is a song. A free‑verse confession. A medicine story. You might not see it yet because you’re still close to the pain, but the act of writing it is the act of healing.
Native wisdom would say: “A wall is a winter home. But spring always comes.”
Your spring is beginning ... you’re feeling again, writing instead of numbing, learning the season of your own heart. Sit with your wall. Listen to it. It will tell you when it is time.
Steve
your words have really touched me Steve. I will be patient and wait for my spring . thank you so much for caring and always being present
I enjoyed this. While crying is an evolutionary trait, the 'nurture' of life should make one question its despotism over certain emotional events. This poem gets you thinking about all sorts of erroneous prejudgments we can so easily make. When art does that, the artist wins.
Holly, this was so, so good! Especially the last line. The entire piece was like a meditative journey.
Oof yes I experience this, especially in therapy. No therapeutic crying for me because: YOU ARE WATCHING ME could there be anything more creepy. I digress. Also AuDHD always says you’ll be calm and deal with the shit in the moment, it’s how we are wired 🖤🖤🖤
I am diagnosed adhd but have often wondered about the aud aspect. The initial assessment I did say no further questions were necessary and it was a no and that is because i do very well with social cues I am able to perform in social settings pretty well it takes a price from me though I have considered seeing about further testing
Is the diagnosis useful to you, like getting access to therapy you really want? Don’t answer here of course but if I put my used-to- be- a -therapist hat on for just a moment, I can say diagnoses don’t touch the soul of what is needed for healing, which is usually safety and the presence of a witness, who allows us to be present to our own experiences. Your “it isn’t a poem,” here tells the truth of your experience. To me that’s what healing is. And to take that hat off again, as a poet, I reckon, as others here have said, I want to say thank you for your strong poem. You’ll take the wall down in good time, probably you already are, or at least you’ll put a gate in it. 🌺💚
Thank you Vivien that give me a lot to think about and I appreciate you taking the time to share some of your wisdom I have started doing some internal work on my own maybe I will reach out for some lessons on how to further that
Just ask Holly. My opinions are what they are, useful or otherwise. Best with it and the poetry. 🌺
If you think it would help but sometimes we just need to stick to our guns of what makes us, us 🖤🖤🖤
You made interior car vomit poetic somehow. You win. ;)
I don’t know how to explain what happened gravity may have paused at that moment and just for the record I wasn’t the vomiter
Lmaoo bruh I remember the night it happened nothing has ever been so gross and absurd since
lol…Ive only ever vomitted DOWN so gravity could help.
Olly I love it. The distraction at the beginning and then getting to the point was great. I love the way you describe the wall.
Thank you I’m still trying to figure out if I need it anymore or if I should talk to my therapist hah!
Just start with one brick and see how it feels 🤷♀️