Tag Archives: Sarah Wood

Good for You

By Sarah Wood

When you tell me,

As the highest form of compliment, 

“You’re good for me.”

I think of all the ways I would describe you.

Never do I imagine

Using words that would suggest back 

A relationship to myself.

I made a list of things that are “Good for Me”: 

Cardio

Flossing 

Probiotics

Sunscreen

I couldn’t put your name, 

Beneath these

Magicless, Consumable,

Things.

Tell me, could you even see me without seeing yourself?

Or did we mistake self-sacrifice for intimacy?

To love you without leaving myself, 

I have to lose.

To love me without losing myself,

I have to leave.

I don’t want to be good for you. 

I want to be whole.


Sarah Wood is a writer, TEDx speaker and mindfulness facilitator from Michigan, currently living in New York City. She is the founder of Joy Soldier™, a community and toolkit to help people lead more joyful lives. She loves finding new books, hummus, and good questions. Sarah has previously been published in the Huffington Post and Thrive Global.

Mother

By Sarah Wood

I didn’t know 

My mother liked to read.

My grandfather

Was a school teacher,

Breathing books.

My grandparents paid us to read;

I read hundreds of books. 

A generational skip, I assumed.

An adult child now,

At home. Atonement.

We swap books and talk about men.

She is my mother.

She is my best friend.

At dinner she announced, 

She finished her 17th book of the year.

Mom, I didn’t know

You liked to read.

Look at our house, she said.

The bookshelves, 

The mother-daughter book club, 

The books I read along with you.

I’ve always loved to read, she said.

It’s a fundamental part of who I am.

She gestures at her head.

That’s like saying you didn’t know

I had brown hair.

I never saw you reading, I said.

She was with us

On the sidelines,

At the dinner table,

In the car.

My mother gave us everything. 

She laid on the river, 

Her body, 

The bridge we tread on. 

Selfless.

Perhaps, this is the

Duty of the adult child. 

Realizing

What she gave,

So I might finally see

My mother.


Sarah Wood is a writer, TEDx speaker and mindfulness facilitator from Michigan, currently living in New York City. She is the founder of Joy Soldier™, a community and toolkit to help people lead more joyful lives. She loves finding new books, hummus, and good questions. Sarah has previously been published in the Huffington Post and Thrive Global. 

Spineless

By Sarah Wood

Heart in my lungs, 

The anatomy of a 

Spineless woman.

No one ever told me that

Relying on oxygen

From another person, was

No way to breathe.

Canary in the coal mine, 

Suffocated.

The girl without a spine, 

Lies.

No worries, all good. 

Of course, I’m happy to. 

That’s okay, I don’t mind.

An honest child, I cried

Wailing, wanting.

At what age, did I become agreeable?

Weeping willow woman.

Only asking for what is 

Available, 

Acceptable, 

Assumed. 

Folding in on myself, 

This nonexistent ribcage is no home for a 

Songbird soul.

No oxygen to feed, the

Spark of yellow.

Reaching for another person

To breathe, love into me,

So I might breathe myself.

But now I’m cracking open,

A wishbone. 

Straightening up, 

Take up space.

Only now am I growing a spine.


Sarah Wood is a writer, TEDx speaker and mindfulness facilitator from Michigan, currently living in New York City. She is the founder of Joy Soldier™, a community and toolkit to help people lead more joyful lives. She loves finding new books, hummus, and good questions. Sarah has previously been published in the Huffington Post and Thrive Global.