Writing as a means of navigating through grief—is a powerful tool for healing. Writing allows for a tangible expression of the intangible, offering a way to articulate the complex emotions that accompany loss. By putting words to feelings, I’m not only identifying and acknowledging these emotions but also experiencing self-compassion and, just maybe, finding understanding.


in the pulse of this pen,
heart throbs ink,
no start, no end.
Tears merge with sweat,
blur lines,
a raw shout from the depths,
a release, a keening flight.
Fingers tremble, grip tight,
on this pen, this lifeline,
dragging shadows into light.
Each letter carved from the inside,
ripping through the veil of night,
a torrent uncaged, a tide.
Pain, not named but lived,
breath by breath,
in ink, it spills, 
it gives.
This moment, this tear, this crack,
a breaking, a becoming,
in every line – a track.
I write,
I bleed, 
I fight,
in the throb, the flow,
I find my might.
No mere recounting of the storm,
but standing in its eye,

(2017, © Julia Delaney)

dragging shadows into light

There’s something almost magical about the act of writing, especially when it comes to the messier parts of our emotional landscape. I’ve found that putting pen to paper—or fingers to keyboard—about feelings like anger, sorrow, or that deep-seated regret can actually lift a bit of their weight off my shoulders. It’s as if by describing these emotions, observing them closely enough to name them, they start to lose some of their shadowy power over me. When I write about my emotions, especially in the form of poetry, I engage in a process that is both cathartic and transformative.

So I Write

In the quiet of a heart’s unending night,
words spill forth, a flickering candlelight.
Torn from the depths where shadows play 
on paper, the soul’s burden begins to fray.
No rhyme to bind, no form to cage,
just raw, unfiltered emotion — rage, sorrow, sage.
Each word – a breath, 
each line – a tear,
in the script of my life – a dance of hope and fear.
Pain named, whispered to the void 
in the act of writing, not destroyed 
but shared with the page, 
a silent friend,
a step toward the beginning of an endless end.
This is no cure, no magic mend,
but in the writing, a hand extends.
Through the tumult – a relief, slight,
in the naming – a burden made light.
So I write, though the world may never see,
these words are mine, uniquely free.
In the transcription of a heart’s heavy toll,
I find a fragment of peace, a part of my soul.

(2017, © Julia Delaney)

In the quiet of a heart's unending night

Poetry, by its nature, requires a distillation of experience. To capture an emotion in a poem, you must condense and refine your thoughts and feelings into the most potent form. This distillation process can lead to epiphanies and insights, as the act of finding the perfect word or metaphor forces you to examine your emotions from different angles. Poetry’s rhythmic and symbolic nature also allows for a more abstract exploration of feelings, making it a powerful medium for expressing complex emotions.


In the labyrinth of loss where echoes dwell,
naming becomes a powerful spell.
Words emerge, trembling and slight,
carving through darkness, a path to light.
Each name a key, each word a stone,
laid on the path, uniquely my own.
The names of feelings, whispering tales,
sails in the storm, when all else fails.
Naming the pain, giving it form,
transforms the tempest into a norm.
What once was nebulous, shapeless, vast,
in naming, finds its anchor cast.
Grief, no longer an unnamed beast,
but a companion at the feast.
Loneliness, not just an empty space,
but a quiet room, a personal place.
Hope, perhaps a distant light,
glimmering faintly in the night.
Love, a thread through time, unbroken,
a name that’s whispered, a lasting token.
In the act of naming, power I found,
a turn of the key, where clarity is unbound.
Words, once captive, now set free,
in their release, my spirit finds the sea.
Each named feeling, a leaf set adrift,
on healing waters, they slowly shift.
From paper to the world, they find their way,
leaving my heart lighter, day by day.
In naming, I untangle from pain’s tight embrace,
each word a step in my soul’s own grace.
This sacred act of drawing near,
turns what I hold to what I release, clear.

(2019, © Julia Delaney)


Writing, particularly in the form of poetry, often touches on the universal aspects of human experience. By articulating your feelings, you not only connect with yourself on a deeper level but also tap into the collective human experience. This sense of connection can be profoundly relieving, as it reassures you that you’re not alone in your feelings. Poetry, with its ability to convey deep emotional truths in a condensed and impactful way, can bridge individual and collective experiences, offering solace and understanding.


in my bedroom, I’m writing,
I’m bleeding on paper, fighting, igniting.
they’re pieces of me,
ripped out, laid bare, for the world to see.
No fancy phrases to hide behind,
just raw emotion, unrefined.
The pain, the tears, they don’t just fall,
they crash, they burn, they scale my wall.
Every heartbeat’s a drum, loud in its ache,
every breath, a storm I can’t seem to shake.
This grief isn’t silent, it’s a roar in my chest,
a beast uncaged, refusing to rest.
The nights aren’t silent, they’re screams in my pillow,
my bed – a boat lost in the billow.
The absence of you is a scream in the void,
a universe collapsed, a world destroyed.
I write not to capture but to release,
not for beauty, but for peace.
Each word a tear, each line a sigh,
a testament that I survive, 
I try.
This is me, 
not just surviving but living,
in each word – a piece of my soul I’m giving.
No metaphors to soften the blow,
just the truth of my heart, a steady glow.

(2022, © Julia Delaney)

In your journey through grief, you might find solace in writing. It’s not about crafting perfect sentences or worrying about grammar; it’s about letting your heart speak on paper. Describe what you’re feeling, no matter how tumultuous or tangled those emotions might be. Name your pain, your longing, your memories—anything that comes to mind. You don’t need to aim for coherence or beauty, just honesty. This process isn’t about judgment; it’s about expression. It might not alleviate the pain completely, but it could lighten the burden, even if just a little.

Be Alive 🌱
Love ❤️, Julia

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