Thoughts on a Journey of Self-Discovery

On Day 21 of Laura Shovan's February Poetry Project, Marilyn R. Garcia invited writers to explore the mystery between sadness and joy in their lives or the world around them. She challenged writers to write a poem about a time or period of life where the coexistence of sadness and joy was strong for you.

It is difficult to believe that it has been 10 months since my husband passed away suddenly. I found the above digital artwork that I created years ago. My journey since then has been one of unbelief, to anxiety, to grief. But it has also been a time of discovery. I tackle questions, such as who am I and where am I going.

My goal is to restore my soul, mind, and body. Plus, I realize that it takes many miles of walking on my spiritual journey to find peace. With sunlight not making regular trips this winter, grey clouds seem to agitate my mind. Recently, I wrote a blog post about holding the sun close to my heart. As the song, Restore My Soul, states, "revive my heart" is what I need.

I started this blog post with a proposed prompt to write a poem about a time or period of life where the coexistence of sadness and joy was strong for me. During the winter season, I have felt the sadness of loss and grey skies along with the joy of being with family, especially my three little grandgirls. The prompt by Marilyn R. Garcia asks us to take the lyrics from one of the Beatles' mysterious songs and make them make sense.

Keeping in line with the sorrow and joy of winter without continual sun is a mystery to me. Winter doldrums have brought unrest. The ending line of my blackout poem is what I would like to bring an optimistic point of view during this bereavement time.

Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles

Here comes the  sun ,  doo-doo-doo

Here comes the sun

And I I say, "It's all right"

Little darlin'

It's been a long, cold onely , l winter

Little darlin'

It feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun , doo-doo-do

Here comes the sun

And I say, "It's all right"

Little darlin'

The smiles return ng to the faces

CVarsalona, 2026

A simple prompt helped me realize that sorrow and joy can coexist. If I hold on to hope and faith, my journey may not be as bumpy as it has been. I look forward to a smile opening each day.

Writing grounds me!

✎

I thank Irene Latham for her recent blog post with an inspiring ending line to her poem "Watermelon, you"-:"Teach me how to hold the sun when the day is anything buy joyful".

winter's sun offers

both darkness and light with love

mystery of weather

CVarsalona, 2026

✎

In addition, I am adding my draft poem for today's Poetry Sisters' February Challenge with Sara, Tanita, Tricia, Mary Lee, and Laura. I choose to use the 25th Poet Laureate of the USA, Aurthur Sze's First Snow poem as my mentor text. I offer a Golden Shovel draft poem with the strike line: the world of being is like this gravel.

dreams melt like the

falling snow in our swishing world

that holds the challenges of

of my swirling life - being

part of continual uncertainty is

unmeasurably worrisome - like

rabbits jumping from here to there this

journey reminds me of winter's icy gravel

(trying to melt what is in my way)

draft-CVarsalona, 2026

The companion photo will be created at a later time.

✎

I join the Poetry Friday Roundup with our host, Margaret Simon, educator, author, poet, and friend. Margaret is offering us three lovely poems she penned for the Ethical ELA Open Write.

created by Margaret Simon

Holding the Sun

As usual for these winter days, the sun seems to be outshone by gray skies. While this weather pattern seems odd, it is a reality, something that I need to adjust to this season. As I walk the spiritual journey, I always seek shreds of wisdom. It just so happened that Irene  Latham shared her blog poem at Live Your Poem this past Friday. One line resonated with me, and so I kept it in my heart.

"Teach me how to hold the sun when the day is

anything but joyful." 

These lines will stay with me as a reminder to be optimistic in the face of challenges while maintaining hope.

I know how to teach,

but how do I teach me?

Is there a way to understand how?

Perhaps I should reach out  to

winter's doldrums - hold

all that the season offers in the

middle of my hand when the sun

does not shine. When

the sky provides the

the gift of light on a certain day

there is

an expectation that anything

can open my heart, but

only with the spirit of joyfulness.

draft CVarsalona, 2026

Slice of Life

February 24, 2026

Join me as I come into the light on a winter's day.

at

Two Writing Teachers

Waiting for You

In the depths of my dreams,

I stop somewhere waiting for you.

Roaring winds whip across snowpiled

areas. I feel your warmth rekindling

flames of fire. Then, quickly

in the corners of darkness,

I awaken, waiting for you.

Sadly, on this cold winter night,

you are no longer here beside me.

Softly, like a dancing snowflake,

I whisper, "I shall not stop waiting

for you in my dreams."

draft CVarsalona, 2026

Photo by Devin Hartnett, Winter in West Virginia

Dedicated to my late husband, Richard

❆❆❆❆❆

Join me at Susan Thomsen's blog, Chicken Spaghetti, for the Poetry Friday Roundup. Susan is hosting this weekend, so she invited everyone to write a poem inspired by a prompt from David Lehman. The poem should start with the final line of Whitman's "Song of Myself", I stop somewhere waiting for you. Susan added her own poem, "Flurries of Winter" for our reading pleasure.

Winter Gray & Crystal Healer

Days pass by. The sun remains covered by ethereal clouds of gray. Cold temperatures negate the ability of walkers to take a winter walk while admiring winter's beauty. I sit watching the snow lessening while leaving patches of earth’s greenery for me to enjoy.

Something nags at my heart. Is it grief, sadness, or both? Is the shadowed sun grasping for a glimpse of spring or the feel of warmth coming from its rays? Where is there a heart healer? At the stroke of morning, a new February Poetry Project prompt is offered by poet/author/educator, Margaret Simon. “Choose a crystal to use as a muse for your poem today”. Like Margaret, I chose a shadorma poem format to write my thoughts.

Crystal Heart Healer-Mango Calcite

I hear tales

of your healing strength

soother of 

body, mind,

soul, bringing positives

to my broken heart

©CVarsalona, 2026

It is said that Mangano Calcite uplifts the human heart and body. The next time I am near a jewelry boutique, I shall browse through the crystals to find this one. For the time being, I shall listen to the beautiful, calming song, Restore My Soul, that I found to embellish my one word, "restore".

It's Friday the 13th and the sun finally turns the sky to a positive shade of sunshine rather than this morning's grayish color. I now turn my thoughts to Poetry Friday with the talented and creative poet, Robyn Hood Black, who is hosting today. It looks like it will not be an unlucky day with Robyn at the helm. If you go to Robyn's blog post, you can see some very charming products she creates at .

Secrets Untold Unfold

On Day 9 of Laura Shovan's February Daily Poetry Project, the prompt led me to remember a secret that was untold until I was in grad school. Rachel Patton Toalson chose the theme. secrets stating "I've been thinking lately about how no matter how long you've known a person, there are still aspects of their lives that remain mysterious." I share with you a special story in my life that unfolded when I was a fledging adult.

Secrets Untold Unfold

3rd grade lesson

where are you from

didn’t know so

I asked at home

she did not tell

secret held close

others Irish

family French???

years later, secret

untold opened

mom rode boat to

America

from Italy

a little child

with her mother

father waiting

one family

together grew

American

lifestyle with friends

Italian 

speaking with grand

until age five

moving onward

during grad school

swirling with pride

tale unfolded

told with honor

dressed like old world

childhood stories

pizza fritta

joy provided

where am I from

nonnie and mom 

Rome New York- first

generation

©Carol Varsalona, 2026

Legacy from Nonnie

At a very young age, I learned how to bake in Nonnie's kitchen.

🍪🍪🍪

So you may have realized the secret. Now, I will tell you why there was a secret for so long. My Nonnie believed that her children should be Americanized once she arrived in America, around 1921. Since I was the oldest grandchild born in the United States, I needed to act like an American. That meant speaking English and graduating from college. Life was different in the 20th Century. I did not know that I was a first-generation child of Italian descent until I was an adult. Where are you from?

🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Join me as I share my Slice of Life with my Two Writing Teachers from across the globe. Click here.

🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪

Inquisitive Child

Have you ever been so intrigued that you delved into the whys of mysteries? As a child, I was always asking questions and searching for answers. One day during a summer stay at my Nonnie's house, I found a large box that was bigger than me. It looked like a junk box, so I wondered what was inside. The next day, I tiptoed into my uncle's room to take a peek, but the box was too tall for me to see what was inside. I decided to bend into the box anyway. I rummaged through papers and lots of junk. What follows is written in a tricube poem.

Inquisitive Child

many thoughts

from childhood

break open

mystery

of the box

uncle had

big and tall

unknown things

intrigued me

I indulged

in what could

be inside

rummaging

through paper

found a gem

tiny box

golden bright

was it junk

it looked real

thrown away

but why I

asked myself

while gazing

at the ring

showed Nonnie

scolded by

my uncle

why did he

throw away

a real ring

sadly I

let go but

wished for it

©CVarsalona, 2026

This memory from the past came by chance. I have been a member of Laura Shovan's February Daily Poetry Project for years. This marks the 14th year of Laura's birthday month, which is celebrated on Facebook. "For several years, in order to practice writing and repair the world (the Jewish concept of tikkun olam) during my birthday month, my blog hosted a community poet project." (Laura Shovan)

This year, 2026, the theme is mistory. One thought from Laura resonated with me. "Why does the unexplained or unknown fascinate us?" My experience as a pre-teen "Nancy Drew", led me to be a curious adult and a seeker of knowledge.

Teacher/poet/photographer, Molly Hogan, is our host of Poetry Friday. I thank her for the lovely winter ice logo above and poems created after Wendell Berry's mentor poem, Like Snow,. You will enjoy both of her short poems and those of her Inkling community. Click the link above.

Blogger's Note:

It is the beginning of another Arctic Blast of bitter cold temperatures but I am sitting in my chair bundled up to elevate my fractured ankle. Even though, I fell asleep before posting my blog, I woke after the stroke of midnight to find my computer sitting on my lap..