To my fellow swear bears
To my fellow swear bears
a poem that might actually be a love letter to anger
The Webs We Weave is a free weekly-ish newsletter on staying connected to ourselves, making connections in our creative work, and feeling more connected in the world.
Lately my writing and I have been having a bit of a female rage moment, and the only thing more fun than surprising myself on the page and watching it unfold is the way my Monday writing group has held me in sweet, raucous encouragement.
A few Mondays ago, we opened our group with the usual greetings while familiar tiles populated the Zoom room. We checked in, shared personal updates, one writing buddy interrupted herself mid-story, “sorry for swearing so much” and only then did I clock how deeply at-home I feel in the presence of foul-mouthed women. Somehow it feels like permission to stop holding my breath.
Moments later, a poem came spilling out. (You can also find full text below the image.)
To avoid seeming crass, I call myself a 'swear bear'
which is another way of saying I hold my anger
at arm's length, dress it up as something softer
so I might claim it as my own. Same way I'd rather swallow
ash than spit fire, or be haunted by my own polite laughter
when a man swilling whiskey insults me so casually
it may as well be checkout line chitchat. This weather, huh.
What tragedies are written in the stars the day we learn to starve
our rage of tea and buttered toast and palms to hold her tired face?
In Banff National Park an undernourished female grizzly kills a couple
without provocation. A hen low on calcium will resort to eating her own
eggs. Female black widows have been known to devour their mates,
even their young when pushed by stress or by scarcity.
Every time, the world insists on disbelief.
She didn't seem like the type. We never saw this coming.
Writing Prompts for Your Practice
Feel free to stash these away and use them however you please: as fodder for journaling, to inspire your next poem or essay, to warm up you brain before you move into your 'real work'—whatever feels aligned with your practice!
Prompts:
Write about a time when your outsides didn’t match the insides, or when there was some sort of disconnect between how you felt vs. how you acted.
What’s something you call yourself? It might be a title, a label, a nickname, ascribed by either you or someone else. Use it as a jumping-off point.
If you write something from one of these prompts that you're inclined to share, I'd love to read it! Make sure to tag me and/or leave a comment below.
Until next time,
Michelle
P.S. It wasn’t until I was scheduling this email to go out that my calendar delivered the alert: today marks my one year Substackaversary! I absolutely could not have predicted last August that I’d be writing, let alone sharing poetry in this space a year later, but here we are. Thank you so much for being here.
Happy *!$&% Substackeversary, Michelle!
Oh my God I love this 🙏❤️ thank you