- Sit with Grief long enough to write a poem about it.
- Try not to get too distracted by the multitude of thoughts ricocheting in your head.
- Try not to become too distraught over the immense heaviness in your chest.
- Be angry, for a while, that grief sits here instead of your father, or grandfather, or friend.
- Try to find the exact words to express those feelings.
- Sorrow? Devastation? Abandonment? Resentment?
- Because anger isn’t even the half of it.
- Acknowledge that you are completely lost and unsure where to go from here.
- Then, open the smoke-stained atlas from 1991 that you found in your grandparents’ house.
- Fiercely scribble and scrawl your words on the pages until they are indistinguishable from the many roads and rivers of Nebraska.
- Imagine you’ve created a new map that, if studied well, can lead you through the grief.
- Trace your words with your finger until you are overwhelmed by the endless, overlapping paths betwixt lines of poetry.
- Rip out the page and set it on fire.
- Cry until you dry-heave and think that you may be dying, too.
- When you stop (don’t worry, the tears will cease), turn your journal to a blank page and make sure you have your favorite pen on hand.
- Start over and don’t you dare regard your outburst as overly dramatic. Every set is necessary.
- Offer grief a cup of tea and insist that it stays a bit longer. You don’t have all the words just yet, but you’d still like to find them.


Na/GloPoWriMo’s Day Four Prompt: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem . . . in the form of a poetry prompt. If that sounds silly, well, maybe it is! But it’s not without precedent. The poet Mathias Svalina has been writing surrealist prompt-poems for quite a while, posting them to Instagram.