Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT June 13th 2022

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem All the Stones That Built Me by Somto Ihezue, posted below. 

Our prompt was: Write about a time you thought: How long have you died here? OR Write about the things that built you.

More details will be posted on this session, so check back again!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Friday June 17th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.


All the Stones That Built Me by Somto Ihezue

In this house are things:
a boy, a lantern,
dead mice, silverware,
running water, screams.

There is filth in this house,
and there is a mop,
and the filth is mop,
and the mop is filth.
And there is me: mop and filth.

This house is a broken Louvre.
In it, I do not have a face,
only a coin ... on the floor ... 
In its shimmer—ghosts pushing me off the roof,
daring me to fly.

And the bedroom?
We sleep when we are dead.
The kitchen?
In this house, we break not bread but stones and promises.
How long have you died here?

My mother lived in this house when I lived in her.
She was many a thing:
a girl, a dark room, scurrying mice,
rust, dripping water, silence,
and at the end, the last spoonful of canned beans.
They collect, dancing on the ceiling, the memories.
They cry, they howl,
they put a bounty out on me.

How do I quell the place that built me?
Set fire to all your bones.

There is no dreaming in this house.
I want to dream that I was old.

Source: Poetry (April 2022)

7 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 6PM EDT June 13th 2022

  1. I am built of feelings written on paper with a pen.
    I am built of friendships, relationships that thrive in community.
    I am built of lightness and air, and crave fresh air in all seasons.

    I am made of the sounds that brought me here, to where I am today.
    Gentle sounds, from the ocean waves of my youth to the
    Cool pool water of the present.

    I am made of all the generations that stretch
    Back into antiquity with many tongues
    And interpretations of tongues.

    I am composed of all the thoughts, fears and triumphs
    I’ve experienced in every year of living…
    Where the goal is
    To be old,
    To survive,
    And thrive
    In the wisdom bestowed on me,
    Despite the many detours!

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Rita B

    Things that built me – Rita

    Eclectic mix of hot peppers and pepper corn
    Green M&Ms and balloons
    Red skirts and saris
    Mauve tops and tops to play with
    Brown earth and chocolate
    Blue sky and blue car
    White foam from lazy baths or paper to write on
    And so much more ….
    But black doesn’t define me or build me in anyway, until perhaps I close my eyes

    Liked by 3 people

  3. melissaadylia

    Narrative Medicine
    June 13.2022
    Melissa Adylia Calasanz

    PROMPT
    Write about a time you thought:
    How long have you died here?
    or
    Write about the things that built you
    (I chose to incorporate both prompts)

    with each breath
    i die a little
    with each breath
    life
    breathing motion
    sustaining
    the sum of all my parts
    .
    buoyant
    fragile
    resilient
    delicate
    dynamic
    .
    built
    in place
    open space
    in time
    when who we were and what I was could hide in the pale of my skin
    .
    memories
    experiences
    work ethic
    time
    .
    pondering my mortality
    holding the hand of the dying
    .
    time and again
    witnessing brutality
    .
    I have now survived my greatest fear

    I create new pieces of me each day
    as other parts waste away
    .
    I breath in
    .
    building hope
    for continued healing
    til it’s time
    for me to leave this place
    .
    of what…
    I am made,
    Melissa Adylia Calasanz

    Liked by 3 people

  4. About things that built me~~~

    As a child, Nature surrounded me… the sweet smell of pine trees, the songs of birds perched in the tree tops, the open sky above me, and fresh cool air to inhale.
    I could run and run without fear; there was safety in being surrounded by Mother Nature’s arms.

    As I grow older, I often return to recall those times of childhood. I call upon Mother Nature and her bountiful gifts to give me solace and refuge when life’s burdens lay heavy. I look up to the skies of blue, listen to the sweet song of the wood thrush, and smell the sweet perfume of the honeysuckle … my soul is refreshed.

    I will forever hold these memories within my heart. They are the foundation from which I draw strength.
    .

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Elizabeth Hussey

    I wanted to say how profound I felt some of the writing was that was shared in the session. I couldn’t find a way that felt big enough to respond through the zoom group environment. But especially for those that shared something traumatic, my heart goes out to you. And thank you for your courage to share.
    My piece is below on
    Things that Built You

    Men that dared to start something
    A Newspaper
    Ice business
    A saw mill
    Builder of churches

    And quiet Women
    Their stories lost but for
    grey and sepia fading images
    Threads left hanging

    Their DNA strands entwine
    Within these bones and vessels
    And beyond to
    The innocence of children

    Liked by 2 people

  6. al3793

    PROMPT: Write about the things that built you…
    There are so many pieces.
    Complex. As simple as two cells that
    couldn’t be more complex.
    I don’t remember gestating,
    but I know it was warm and wet,
    accompanied by the swishing sound of
    a mother’s heart.
    I wonder what she thought and
    how she felt.
    Only mothers are this close to their child.
    After all, they carry their child within themselves.
    This complexity starts to build me or
    Is it me that drives the complexity?
    I start to remember dreams…

    Andre

    Liked by 2 people

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