SARAH GROTH
WRITING
A small collection of poetry.
Unravelling mysteries inside me
The unknown fabrics of my mind and flesh
Learning how to touch the soft silk of
My body and untangle the knots of anger
From conversations long past.
There will always be more
I am a constant weaver
Spinning intricate patterns of bold colors
and bland cloth.
I am braiding myself into this world
Strands of self to follow
and others to protect.
- September 28th, 2023
This bitter earth,
Oh darlin how I love you
How I yearn to cherish you in splendid glory
What good is love, what good am I
If torn flesh lays strewn across the ground
If we can’t tend to ourselves, what is left beyond our selfish tendencies
What is left for you
How we ravage and burn
Pulling and pulling and pulling ourselves closer to annihilation
To total separation
To faceless, nameless perpetrators
To armies of destroyers, careless, yet driven
To cheapening love — no longer a relational stewardship
But a slogan, a mutated word not felt but hijacked
Lost to the blind
Lost to the race that created a monster
Methodically consuming you, the glory, even its creator
The creator that is too divided to heal, to dream, to stop
Even if some can see, the monsters already inside, blocking out truth after truth
Feeding desperation that fuels the pain, the chaos, the control
Pulling
Pulling
Pulling
This silly little game we play
Day after day
Dressing up and stripping down
Make believe
With consequences so dire you can’t dare to look
You need not look
You feel each mine, each war, each bomb, each rape, each genocide
Just as we should
We’ve just shrunk so small
The glory is gone
The wholeness destroyed
We can’t contain it all
We contain nothing at all
- November 21st, 2023
The pebbles. The shells.
A territory of one.
Honored and fought for,
Generational country.
‘Welcome.’ They say.
‘Enjoy our land.’
As the visitors take more
Then a moment.
Trampled and altered.
They rush in with gumption,
Ignoring the pleas.
No longer visitors,
But occupants.
- July 15th, 2023
I can’t quite reach myself
She’s just over there
Ebbing in and out of view.
Me — a many faced observer
Too appeasing,
Unfit to see her true face
The irenic complacency
Ironically adding further barriers.
Just a harsh strip,
Nakedness strongly and suddenly imposed
Raw and alone
Just us.
Me and myself.
- October 25th, 2023
I am returning to myself.
I am the flower child wandering off into the bushes
To talking to myself
Wearing long dresses
Dancing naked in fields.
Dirty and creative in the earth.
Fairy houses and forts
And magic.
- August 1st, 2023
Bleeding on beaches.
Pink licking my legs.
Race down
Toward the tide hardened sand.
Gusts and flows
Not abrading
But consuming
Embracing my flesh as one.
Within it.
As my mind turns fluid
Skin evaporating
Internally rooting
Soul dripping
From it we are birthed
For it we should live.
- December 21st, 2023
Should it be private
I am not selfless I am selfish
I have experienced a great love affair
Do you want to live
- November 4th, 2023
Orange, slate, olive, black.
The precision of their forms, the speckles, gradients, algae, and position illuminated.
A frolicking outcrop of stones, water, and light.
Clear and beautiful in its short existence.
- July 13th, 2023