I see daisies everywhere. On the pants of a woman walking ahead of me, on a menu, and a bottle of perfume. They were my mom‘s favorite and reflected her simple, understated beauty. The past year without her has been dark lonely, but I planted a daisy garden on her death date, and she greets me each morning with the bow of her white petals reminding me she is here with me, still.
I’m grateful for your beautiful words and invitation, Elena.
Maybe I'm biased because I believe everything Elena makes is pure gold. Gush gush. This book, however, was my intro not only to Elena and her work but also to my long-awaited appreciation for poetry.
Maybe because I listened to this book first on Audible, I could appreciate the tone and words. But then I bought a copy (!), and I earmark my favorites. I've read many of her poems more than twice (and listened many times); I find them soothing and somehow concise. In her work, I find myself - so much so that I began writing my own. 🙏🏼
Each time I tune into these soft, sensitive words that paint vivid brush strokes of colour, lively full of feeling paintings. They speak of sensitivity, reverence for the simplest of life's gestures. Loving, moving, breathing emotive recollections. With deep gratitude for Elena and for this wonderful gift she has been given and honed over living, loving and learning.
My Dad…. There is no one thing that makes his presence felt.. he’s in everything… he is my kid’s blue and perfect eyes, in my morning coffee, in my meditations and in my body every time I take a breath. He is there, but when I miss him the most is in the emocional caos, I look up for him, for his wisdom and soothing comfort. And when I resurface from that challenged moment, I thanked my self for getting it through and also I thanked him, because I know he was there with me hand in hand.
As always and forever, thank you Elena for your words. I love you ❤️
Ooh, this is lovely, and it reminds me so much of my relationship with my own mom. And because I am lucky enough to have her with me still, I will visit her today with the intention of expressing (shamelessly) some of the mother-daughter love that passes between us all -- even when we sometimes feel like pushing it away. Thank you, Elena.
This is so beautiful Elena~ thank you! My mother is still with us though her ability to remember is fading now. I clench down when I think of all the ways she hurt me, but I keep close the memory of laying down with my head in her lap as we watched whatever was on the television, in silence, as she absent-mindedly, slowly stroked my hair placing strands around and behind my ear, so softly.
Review from Amazon: Elena Brower's "Softening Time", beautifully and compassionately explores many heartfelt themes--loss, aging, nostalgia, inner-growth, to name a few. The poems express an authenticity and sensitivity that enable the reader to find their own experience in her words. In fact, I start my morning meditation with a poem from "Softening Time"; her words inspire me to dig deep into whatever I am facing and they help me return home to myself. I am so very grateful for this book of poems and eagerly await the next one!
To Olga, with her little sliver of a bed, under the dormers, and her room that smelled like icy hot and the pillows pressed into the cracks, but who always made room for me, in the dark, big house. It's such a meaningless thing, the care that we can always count on, until it's the only thing that ever mattered.
Both of my parents. I'm sorry I took you and all your love for granted until you were gone. Two wonderful, kind, loving, endlessly patient people. Thank you for helping me pass those lessons on to my daughters.
(Such a beautiful photo of you and your Mother, Elena).
I'm going to sit with these lines for a while... This was one of the poems I bookmarked in your collection, and I'm grateful for the way each of your pieces reflect love and humility.
Thank you for this reminder of what our mother's love will always be - everything, everywhere.
My mom passed long ago, when I was a teenager. It was a loss that left a chasm between the life and love I had known, and a grief and emptiness so deep that building the tallest walls around my heart was the only way I could think to survive. Decades later, with the birth of my children and the maternal love I experience, I feel so much closer to her. The walls are not gone but crumbled, and her imprint of love is felt with every expression of love I now offer my own children.
Was that photo in the financial district? Around water/ front street? I bicycled and pondered heavily on those cobblestones. And what a great feeling to hang in the air with legs dangling before we hit the ground running. Honor to parents. Honor to all seekers here. ❤️
I see daisies everywhere. On the pants of a woman walking ahead of me, on a menu, and a bottle of perfume. They were my mom‘s favorite and reflected her simple, understated beauty. The past year without her has been dark lonely, but I planted a daisy garden on her death date, and she greets me each morning with the bow of her white petals reminding me she is here with me, still.
I’m grateful for your beautiful words and invitation, Elena.
My entry for a signed copy :)
Maybe I'm biased because I believe everything Elena makes is pure gold. Gush gush. This book, however, was my intro not only to Elena and her work but also to my long-awaited appreciation for poetry.
Maybe because I listened to this book first on Audible, I could appreciate the tone and words. But then I bought a copy (!), and I earmark my favorites. I've read many of her poems more than twice (and listened many times); I find them soothing and somehow concise. In her work, I find myself - so much so that I began writing my own. 🙏🏼
Each time I tune into these soft, sensitive words that paint vivid brush strokes of colour, lively full of feeling paintings. They speak of sensitivity, reverence for the simplest of life's gestures. Loving, moving, breathing emotive recollections. With deep gratitude for Elena and for this wonderful gift she has been given and honed over living, loving and learning.
My Dad…. There is no one thing that makes his presence felt.. he’s in everything… he is my kid’s blue and perfect eyes, in my morning coffee, in my meditations and in my body every time I take a breath. He is there, but when I miss him the most is in the emocional caos, I look up for him, for his wisdom and soothing comfort. And when I resurface from that challenged moment, I thanked my self for getting it through and also I thanked him, because I know he was there with me hand in hand.
As always and forever, thank you Elena for your words. I love you ❤️
Ooh, this is lovely, and it reminds me so much of my relationship with my own mom. And because I am lucky enough to have her with me still, I will visit her today with the intention of expressing (shamelessly) some of the mother-daughter love that passes between us all -- even when we sometimes feel like pushing it away. Thank you, Elena.
This is so beautiful Elena~ thank you! My mother is still with us though her ability to remember is fading now. I clench down when I think of all the ways she hurt me, but I keep close the memory of laying down with my head in her lap as we watched whatever was on the television, in silence, as she absent-mindedly, slowly stroked my hair placing strands around and behind my ear, so softly.
fine tribute soft and deep
Review from Amazon: Elena Brower's "Softening Time", beautifully and compassionately explores many heartfelt themes--loss, aging, nostalgia, inner-growth, to name a few. The poems express an authenticity and sensitivity that enable the reader to find their own experience in her words. In fact, I start my morning meditation with a poem from "Softening Time"; her words inspire me to dig deep into whatever I am facing and they help me return home to myself. I am so very grateful for this book of poems and eagerly await the next one!
To Olga, with her little sliver of a bed, under the dormers, and her room that smelled like icy hot and the pillows pressed into the cracks, but who always made room for me, in the dark, big house. It's such a meaningless thing, the care that we can always count on, until it's the only thing that ever mattered.
Both of my parents. I'm sorry I took you and all your love for granted until you were gone. Two wonderful, kind, loving, endlessly patient people. Thank you for helping me pass those lessons on to my daughters.
(Such a beautiful photo of you and your Mother, Elena).
"What I know now of love carries your imprint.
Your voice is right here."
I'm going to sit with these lines for a while... This was one of the poems I bookmarked in your collection, and I'm grateful for the way each of your pieces reflect love and humility.
Thank you for this reminder of what our mother's love will always be - everything, everywhere.
"What I know of love carries your imprint." is one of the most beautiful lines I've ever read. Thank you!
My mom passed long ago, when I was a teenager. It was a loss that left a chasm between the life and love I had known, and a grief and emptiness so deep that building the tallest walls around my heart was the only way I could think to survive. Decades later, with the birth of my children and the maternal love I experience, I feel so much closer to her. The walls are not gone but crumbled, and her imprint of love is felt with every expression of love I now offer my own children.
Was that photo in the financial district? Around water/ front street? I bicycled and pondered heavily on those cobblestones. And what a great feeling to hang in the air with legs dangling before we hit the ground running. Honor to parents. Honor to all seekers here. ❤️