If you’re a creative person, there’s almost nothing as important to your work as surrounding yourself with other creative people. (Shout out to my fellow #1000WordsOfSummer pals! You did it! Probably! So did I! Mostly!) Yes, we need people who are nothing like us to inform, inspire, and educate us in how to understand a life that’s not ours, and we learn how to remain curious and thoughtful from them; but our fellow artists and writers offer something else: a system of support that comes from a place of intrinsic knowing. They feel when we’re struggling and they sense when we’re succeeding; they cheer us on or buy us a beer; they hold our hand when we’re crossing the street into the great unknown. They remind us we’re not alone. They help you find the achievable in our work and stretch for the best in ourselves.
One of our friends, Tara K. Shepersky, is the poet behind the beautiful collections, TELL THE TURNING and SERPENTINE. She nips from the natural world like tweezers on a tick and leaves no stone unturned. When I read her work I want to stick my feet in the water. I want to literally touch grass. She’s one of those friends we don’t see as much as we’d like, but her voice and view is with me more often than not, especially on my daily walks. And she has always encouraged me, as I have with her - one of those you don’t have to say it, but I get it and I’m here for you friends.
Tara posted this poem in her Instagram stories and I asked if I could share it in THE COMMA. She not only agreed, she sent me a beautiful handwritten copy of it that I treasure. Now you can, too.
Yield
There's no end to it: how gentle
you have to be with yourself.
It could be now is not the time
to lament your body shape
or to volunteer more.
And you have to be the one to say
as green and quiet as river
lapping summer-soft on stone:
Here you are. Exactly
who I want.
By Tara K. SheperskyAnd now your Comma Ha-Ha:
Touching grass,
Kayla
Love this. Thank you Kayla