I don’t think I have said enough about the splintered disorder of June, July & August. — Virginia Woolf, The Complete Works: The Diary

Sustained turbulence becomes a gentle mania.
Where violence shapes, hope shelters.
Redwoods may represent us more than we know.

But it’s the love you don’t give yourself
that’s got me worried.
If skin is cut off from oxygen, you die.

It’s also true the last part of the body
to burn when cremated is your belly button.
A finality to an already severed attachment.

By gathering this evidence as a way to signal
private grief, I reckon these traces of darkness
will eventually find you brave.