dear Ground of All Being

personal updates, a poem, more poems, & invitations

for the past couple of months, my body has been really challenged by: depression, chronic stress, chronic overstimulation (children!), lack of appetite (only worsening), moving, personal grief, collective grief (um, can we literally make this stop now?), & more. i’m truly wrecked.

after a few days of intense packing/moving/unpacking, i rerererereturned to my yoga & meditation practice, which is just three sun salutations and five minutes of meditation to start. i got up early and lit a candle before starting my practice. i was so afraid of falling apart too early in the day while alone with my kids that i considered keeping a candle lit next to me the entire day. i decided against it because my children are so unpredictable, but i’m sharing this to get across how desperate i was for a few hours of peace in my body. emotional support candle. something — anything — to remind me that i’m here and i can breathe and i can stay here.

before moving, when i was in the middle of not knowing wtf was happening to my life and deep disappointment (a dream deferred, y’all), despair led me to my own kind of prayer. i’ve been interested in two-way prayer since i heard Elizabeth Gilbert talk about it on a podcast a couple of years ago, but i’m still not ready for that practice. i decided to write to God instead, but i didn’t like the language of “dear God” or even “dear Spirit,” so i did some research and found “Ground of All Being” — a phrase by Paul Tillich. perfect.

now, most mornings, start by writing “dear Ground of All Being,” and write to being itself, which is exactly what i have been struggling most with lately: just being.

i’ve also been slowly rereading Mark Nepo’s Things That Join the Sea and the Sky because i remember it helping me through a hard time a few years ago.

all that, and i just let myself cry all the time. my 2yo sees me, puts a hand on me, and says, “how you feel, mama? how you feel?” my 4yo grabs the nearest instruction manual and says, “here, mom. this will help you.”

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announcements & invitations

i have three new poems that have just been published in print.

• “Mama Letter” appears in ROOM Magazine, Issue 48.2: Travellers.

• “Nobody Told Her” and “The Poem Wants More” appear in Epiphany Magazine, Issue 34.

i have two workshops coming up.

• How the Poem Becomes: Exploring the Ars Poetica (through The Poetry Lab!) | Tuesday, July 8 | 5:30 - 7:30pm PT | Sliding Scale, $4 - $38 | More Details / Register Here

• Sister Outsider Study Group (through

  Literary Liberation
  !) | Sundays, July 13 - September 7, 2025 | 1-2pm ET | $40/$80 total for eight gatherings | More Details / Register Here

lastly, i’m still sharing a free workshop listing at the end of each month over at

we the soil

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in honor of the Sister Outsider Study Group i’ll be facilitating, i would like to share a poem that was published in The Marbled Sigh’s Political Poems Online Anthology earlier this year.

the title is inspired by this quote by Audre Lorde:

“If I cannot air this pain and alter it, I will surely die of it. That’s the beginning of social protest.”

the beginning of social protest

this is true: i carried a fetus in my middle.

and then another grown alive in my middle.

this is true: risk and rare refuge for children like mine.

i decide if a seed will sprout in my middle.

this is true: they said no pain! and no time!

then, they cut me right in the middle.

this is true: the scalpel made agony. i begged, anything.

went home with a bill — one finger right in the middle.

this is true: rent bullies us back to work too soon.

i bend at the crease that marks my middle.

this is true: white parties in white buildings see over my body.

the lie is the search for ground right in the middle.

this is true: i fracture and burst for the children. so much

about the heart, but nothing breaks like my middle.

this is true: my knees sink in the mud.

when i wait for an end, yomalis, i drown in the middle.

with deep care,

yo