09/24/2026
This time of year always feels extra grief-y for me. How about for you? This poem from Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer is a reminder to share your grief with others. Be messy. Be vulnerable. We’ll all be better off for it.
What if, instead of grief,
we call it pollination,
a process through which we realize
the gold of our hearts must spill out
and if we are to survive as a species,
it requires we somehow exchange
this gold with each other—all our hearts
splayed open, all our hearts needing
what the other hearts have.
It’s messy. Vulnerable.
And this is how we go on.
Your grief. My grief.
The quiet buzz of conversation.
This splitting open. This spilling.
This sharing with each other.
This deepening.
My artist friend Trisha Shaw painted two sunflowers to accompany this poem. 🌻
Shop prints on my website at alisonrosevintage.com.
