My son’s tongue sticks out in concentration 
As he attempts to master the bicycle kick
My daughter eats ice cream out of a glass bowl
Tips it to drink the last drops
And I feel a wildness that might break me

Clean open

I am a glutton for wounds I do not yet need
To nurse nor may never suffer
And yet I gather them like
Smooth stones

And yet, and yet—
I know deep in my bones
That I can carry that load, 
I must, 
If the day comes

It’s as wide as it is deep
This grief
Spread out like wild fire
Or a vast blue ocean
Or a birth mark 

I will carry it
And you 
And you
And you
And you 
And you
And you
And you
And you

At twenty 
I felt the physical sensation of heartbreak 
Witnessed my sternum cleaved and exposed
From a pain I swore would never end 
I collected the pain 
No—hoarded it—
And gorged myself on sadness
As if it would never be enough 
To match the wound 

In the mirror I saw
A raw power 
An exacting knife 
I could wield to slice myself open 

And I wrote!
I wrote and I wrote and I wrote 
Until all the pens were dry 
And my fingers cramped 
And my back ached
And I was empty and hungry 
And ready again to be filled 
With rage and excitement and glee and sorrow

What could be better than this leeching, I thought 

Now frowning in indignation 
I soften when I feel my brow furrowing 
Noting the way I wear my heart on my skin 
So unlike my younger self 
Who wore a feeling with abandon 
And filled herself completely with emotion 
To gather its strength and pour it out again

Not caring 
(Or maybe not knowing?)
That a gutting leaves a scar 

Uneaten

Zipped and name-tagged

Waiting patiently in their cubbies

One Pokémon lunchbox

A hand-me-down

Isn’t it nice when things come back in style

Right now he only eats granola bars

And hot Cheetos

But one day he’ll grow out of this phase

And there’s always a fruit and veggie thrown in

Just in case

One Princess lunchbox

With green ziplocked PB and J with the crusts

Cut off and sliced diagonally

Two cuties, a handful of grapes

Cut in half because why risk it

She won’t always have time to write a note

But it being a special day

She writes

“I love you so much

Have a great first day of school”

Two lunches

Uneaten

Zipped and name-tagged

Waiting patiently in their cubbies

we turn to her wisdom

to make sense of ourselves

connecting the rhythm of a heartbeat

to the lull of waves crashing to shore.

We know her in relation to us—

for we will never know the depths, truly,

of all that she is. And yet we worship

what we can see.

We so love the Earth

we ground ourselves

in the physical, knowing that

this is,

this is all that there is in this moment—

dirt, sun, clouds, wind—

and this thought gives us peace.

We so love the Earth

we gave our front yard

to be a meadow garden for her bumblebees,

and hummingbirds, and even the flies,

because we understand the importance of

pollination and we will do our part

to right the wrongs

we have done.

We so love the Earth

we entrust our dead to

her loving embrace, to fold them

back into the Earth

to be reborn.

If you enjoyed this poem, consider supporting a new author by purchasing my collection or sharing this post with someone you love. Thank you for reading!

Emmalee Windle Poetry

I’m so excited to share that I’ve written a book!! This has been a dream of mine and it’s hard to believe it’s come to fruition. I wrote the first poem for this book when I was 15 and never thought I would one day publish an entire book of my poetry.

If you love poetry (or love me!), or know someone who loves poetry, and would like to purchase a book, you can order through my website and receive a signed copy. You can also order through Amazon or Barnes & Noble (and leave a review if you liked it.)

I want to thank my friends MG and John at Bird Brain Publishing for all their expert advice and making my dream a reality; my best friend and main hype woman Samantha for always believing in me and inspiring a poem or two; my sister Julia for her creativity and support; and my partner in life Alec without whose support I would not have been able to undertake a third job of publishing a book following my first jobs as therapist and mom.

Emmalee Windle Poetry

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

I see spring unfold

The plump robins are out again

Perched on the garden fence

My mockingbird greets me in the morning

The tulip petals have just now started their unfurling

This year there are fox kits with their mother

Tromping on the hillside

An unlikely sight in our city neighborhood

Yet I’m told she comes here each year

To raise her babies

This year we planted a tree that stands 3 feet tall

Bare and expecting

Each year spring feels like a miracle

I had forgotten what the hills looked like green

And that the trees down the street bloom pink flowers

Will I ever not be filled with wonder

Or will the tree grow

And the fox return

And the mockingbird sing

And the tulips bloom

And will it feel like the first time

I have ever witnessed such a life?

When will I return home

To the way things were

Tiny square imprints in carpet

Faded paint and outlines of dust

Only seen in morning light

Still trace the map of what was there

The furniture has been rearranged

A dozen times to make space for more

To replace outgrown toys

To protect little foreheads from gashing wounds

I no longer remember the sound

Of a quiet home

Only one heavy with the passing

Of time from one shoe size

To the next

And sometimes I can barely breathe

Under the weight of needs

And sometimes I can barely breathe

From feeling such deep love

Remember those MySpace surveys we used to fill out to share random information about ourselves?

I thought it would be fun (and not at all embarrassing) to make a survey to introduce myself to the Substack world.

1. The Basics

What’s your name? Emmalee!
Where do you live? Cincinnati, Ohio, United States
What do you do for a living? Writing poetry obviously… Just kidding! I write for the feels. I am a mental health therapist and I specialize in trauma and working with neurodivergent and queer folks. <3

2. What You Really Want to Know

What’re your sun and moon signs? Cancer and Sagittarius
What’s your enneagram number? I’m a 4, the individualist (typical poet)
What do you do for fun? I love to read, particularly octogenarian and 19th century murder mysteries. I take care of a small flock of very spoiled hens. And I do a lot of word puzzles.

3. Random Questions

Ok these are taken straight from the My Space vault:
What’re you drinking right now? Doctor D’s sparking probiotic drink concord grape
What’s your favorite song? Strawberries by Caamp
What’s the first book you ever read? Ok so not FIRST book but this is the first book of poems I ever read. I received it in elementary school as a prize in the magazine drive. (Feeling verrrry exposed as a millennial right now.) It inspired me to start writing and to create poems that may one day inspire someone else to write.

4. Why I’m Here

I started this Substack because I want to share my writing with others and read what others are writing. Although I have been writing poetry since I was a wee 12 year old penning anguished verses in a leather-bound journal, I have very seldom shared my writing with the world. Consider this me opening the book and trusting my words with you.

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