Since starting this project I seem to have developed a sense that tells me a poet has a deeper story to tell while I watch them perform. Something beyond their words that has drawn them to that particular stage at that time, leaving me moved to speak to them and tell them about Write Speak Recover. This was very much the case with Emma, whom I only saw perform once at Rough Drafts Poetry. Her performance was equally fierce and vulnerable, with a gentle dose of humour to help us along. Our subsequent shoot together was everything I love about this project, a soulful time in a beautiful place with someone finding a path though life in their own brave, unique and magic way. I am consistently humbled by the care and attention our poets put into the portraits and the storytelling, and feel honoured to bring you Emma’s edition this week.
Please be mindful that WSR content can be thematically sensitive.
Emma
I like to describe myself as a multi-passionate creative because I don’t think we ever really are just one thing. “I am many things” has become a mantra to myself, one that is ever evolving, and includes (but not limited to) being an actor, a dancer, a filmmaker, and apparently now a writer/poet.
Hilariously, it's taken me a little while to realise that what I’ve been writing is poetry, because (aside from the odd Instagram caption) everything I write tends to be in the privacy of my journal, as a way of processing big feelings or scrambled thoughts that my neurodivergent brain needs to empty out onto the page. And I think that’s all I saw it as: just a way of channeling my grief, and joy, and rage, and everything in between when I didn’t know where else to place those feelings. It was only when I started sharing to friends some pieces that I’d written did it really land with me that I have indeed been writing poetry. I think in part there’s some imposter syndrome lurking in the shadows, a feeling of unworthiness to claim the label of “poet”, and so taking part in this project feels divinely timed as I take steps to move away from imposter syndrome and into full acceptance and ownership of another form of my self-expression and creativity.
Not all, but most of what I have written over the past 4 years has been grief related, as a way of processing the trauma of a very sudden and devastating bereavement that turned my whole world upside down and ripped away the future I thought I possibly might have. I realised early on in my grief journey that the kindest, most loving thing, I could do for myself was to allow others to fully see me in my grief - the most authentic expression of whatever that looked like, no matter how raw or messy. I discovered that through showing up authentically, through not trying to hide the deep pain or how much my heart had been shattered, that it allowed others the invitation to offer help or comfort when I needed it most. And most beautifully, I realised it also acted as a permission slip for others to open up and share their pain so that they could find comfort and relief in doing so too. Through the sharing of my writing, I hope I can help even just one person to feel less alone in their pain, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to do so through this wonderful project.
It Comes In Waves
It comes in waves
She says.
As she’s asked how she’s doing now,
seventeen months on.
It comes in waves
She says.
Unexpected.
Out of the blue.
Whilst watching a show on Netflix that you
thought would be a “safe” watch.
See the waves,
Rippling,
Cascading,
Crashing,
Suffocating.
Hear the deafening roar
of silence.
Aren’t the waves smaller now?
No. Never smaller.
I’ve just learnt how to root my feet deeper into
the sand
to withstand
the tsunami as it washes over me.
It comes in waves
She says.
Ebbing and flowing with the tides,
forever learning how to swim again
in the moonlit pool of grief.
On The Writing Process
The sheer magnitude of my grief was so much bigger than me, and the only way I have found to safely process through my body what needs to be released and integrate what needs to be integrated (both still very much an on-going practice) has been through dance and writing. I am a great believer that the body stores trapped emotions if left and suppressed, and that many diseases/sickness/physical ailments etc are external manifestations of unprocessed emotions and trauma. Pouring out what I’m feeling onto the page has been a vital and necessary act of self-preservation and healing.
I don’t really know that I have much of a specific writing process in all honesty, as most of what I write has often come to me like a lightning bolt, 'divine inspiration' striking me out of nowhere as I scramble in haste to write the words down as they flow out of me. That being said, I have had a consistent journalling practice for 7+ years now and so I think the act of just writing streams of consciousness is a process in and of itself that then gives rise to something that has 'form' and more of a structure. If I’ve written a poem I do now come back and make revisions after allowing it to percolate for a few days, with a fresh set of eyes and a more critical mind after the initial wave of emotion that perhaps sparked the poem in the first place has dissipated a little.
Favourite poets, poetry nights, books or other resources:
Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou, William Blake, Shakespeare, Morgan Harper Nichols, Rupi Kaur, Sara Rian
Write Speak Recover, in collaboration with TheNeverPress is an open, free collection of original portraits of poets using their art to find strength in their recovery journey from any form of dis-ease.
We invite you to follow Write Speak Recover on Instagram and to reach out to Tim Foley at WSR or us directly at the zine to learn more, or put yourself forward to be featured in this initiative.
Hit the logo for more Write Speak Recover content 👇
If you need support, here are some resources:
Samaritans
Alcohol Change
Recovery Dharma
Alcoholics Anonymous
This article was brought to you by Tim Foley and edited by Gabby Spearing