Paper Birds & Pumpkins
a poem about loss, heartache, and holding onto hope
They say bad things happen in threes, so why does it feel like every
day is another tally mark I can’t erase? My mom is sick with an
incurable disease, my dad fell forward in a parking lot because
the world would not stop spinning, and there is a lump in my left breast—
the same as the one I’ve been carrying in my throat ever since headlines
started sounding like an obituary. There are lights going out on children,
and entire cities caught in a fiery rage, and a white house that does not know
it is made out of glass. In fairytales, the carriage makes its way home
before turning back into a pumpkin, and I used to think a doorway needed
a magical beginning, but life never arrives that way. Instead grief hands you
the map folded in on itself and asks you to point toward the future.
And, I don’t think there’s a God, but the other day I learned they
dropped poetry over Barcelona, paper instead of bombs, because sometimes beauty is the only protest we have left. Sometimes we have to sit with a violent thunderstorm in order to memorize the smell of rain. Sometimes we have to
notice the people at the grocery store, remind ourselves miracles take place
in the womb of a woman, that the Earth has never demanded that spring come all at once. Sometimes we have to realize there is a river running through us,
that none of this natural world believes it is broken.
Meet the Writer
Hi! I’m Danielle Langin, a life-long poet and writer, and mother in bloom. Welcome to Growing Through It—my space on the internet where I share personal essays, poetry and resources for those who are passionate about creativity. I write about home, belonging, creative expression, and the things that make us wonder what it means to be alive. I’m also a big fan of creating community spaces for writers to grow.



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Wow I could really feel this one thank you for sharing with such vulnerability and strength.