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Ashley Massey Poem
I am softer now
but make no mistake
love grew teeth
the day
you arrived
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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Ashley Massey Poem
Now That the End Is Near
The once bare walls, now adorned with signs of my spirit,
Will be bare once again
Four years held here, and now the end is near.
Every laundry pile, every stack of books,
Each crystal placed with care
Will fall into silence.
Now the end is near.
Delicate altars built to honor and hold
Will dissolve,
Making room for a new season’s bloom.
Now the end is near.
The dim-lit living room,
Where Matt Maeson’s verses danced
And Taylor Swift’s voice filled the air,
Where we twirled around to TV Girl
Will stiffen into stillness.
Now the end is near.
The bedroom, where we once worshipped each other,
Where life was created
Now folds inward
With each box packed full of memory.
A soul remembered,
A self once shattered.
But here I healed.
Here, I was reborn.
Now the end is near.
And yet
My new sunroom, a 70s fever dream,
Breathes the colors of beginning.
Here, gratitude floods in
For the space that once cradled me
When I could barely hold myself.
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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Ashley Massey Poem
The space between
what is,
what is not,
what was,
what’s yet to come
a void,
unmarked,
like untouched parchment.
Conjure anything upon it,
with it.
Infuse it with existential ache
or the unburdened wonder of a child.
Revel.
Adorn it with the sun,
or the moon,
with me and you.
Imprint it with all you are.
Drench it,
as if it’s your final moment there.
Extract every drop
from the marrow of your being.
Its destiny is forged by your hands
in ways you cannot yet fathom.
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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Ashley Massey Poem
She was as tough as they come
they don’t make them like her anymore.
Hands in the dirt,
working in silent reverence
a way of life not long forgotten,
but suddenly remembered.
Beneath the tough exterior
lived a tender heart,
raising children of a lineage
that wasn’t hers,
yet answering the sacred call
to care for babes.
Her hands were never idle
always working with care,
magic pouring from her palms
as she wiped the sweat from her brow
in quiet remembrance
of earth,
sky,
stars,
and spirit.
True to herself,
a light in this world.
I remember the day
I placed my hand
on your cold body
one last earthbound touch
before we returned you home.
I never had bad dreams of you,
because I touched you
before they came to take you to God.
What was left of the woman
who cared for me,
loved me as her own
a love with no limits.
A mother’s love
that reaches beyond
the constructs of time.
The parlor was bright,
flowers climbing every wall
more than the funeral home
had ever seen.
A true matriarch,
now inspiring generations
from beyond.
Riding with my brother
to lay you to rest,
an ache rattled in my chest,
my gut drowning
in the tears
my eyes held hostage.
Driving behind the hearse,
Hank Williams’ crooning through Mr. Lincoln
on the radio
a regal calling,
a hymn to carry you home.
I remember the pink roses
on your casket.
Everything you nourished in this life
made room for more like you.
I see myself in you,
and I feel only honor.
You were my mom.
And I was daughter.
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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Ashley Massey Poem
The river bends,
the wind shifts.
I follow
without maps,
and I arrive.
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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Ashley Massey Poem
Down on the floor,
where everyone thinks they are better,
a curious feeling starts to swell in my throat.
The air is cool against my skin,
tinged with the faint metallic scent of sweat
and the sharp sweetness of perfume.
The starting chords of a song
that lives within my spirit
rise through the crowd, vibrating through the soles of my boots
and rattling my chest with every beat.
I shout and I scream.
The tears begin to fall.
A moment of silence hits me like a wall,
the sudden stillness heavy, almost sacred.
The energy of the room cradles it all.
Then the beat picks up.
I let the tears run,
stamping my boots,
my fried vocals
anoint the release.
Hand on my heart,
I feel it in my bones.
I must move.
And so I dance some more,
spinning, swaying,
lost in the pitch black starry background,
still screaming those chorus lyrics,
my lifeline so many times before.
I shout the bridge
with one of my favorite artists.
The grief releases,
the anger frees,
the gratitude hums quietly,
a note still lingering in the dark.
Can’t you see
that it’s art that saved me?
The song ends
as I make amends
with those versions of me
who arrived in tears.
I applaud and scream once more,
and cringe at the people I used to be before.
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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Ashley Massey Poem
??Here's a piece I wrote about my favorite old holiday!
???Imbolc???
On February first
I step through the back door
into the breath of winter
and tie my favorite scarf
around the old oak
keeper of memory
witness to return
I leave it there
as an offering
My spirit is bright and light
gratitude falling behind me
like sun-glint
on snow and ice
I go back inside
to hearth and rhythm
evening
routine
baby
family
full
The magic is not waiting
It is already here
flickering in the in-between
in moments that pass too quickly
to name
At dawn
I return for the scarf
Hope shines in my eyes
The old ways murmur
the ewes are stirring
the dark is loosening its grip
Brigid walks the land again
laying her fire
beneath the frost
Hold fast
The light is lengthening
Rest, rest, rest
while the ground still sleeps
Blessed be this turning of the year
may fire and water
heart and hearth
guide me gently
into the rising light
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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Ashley Massey Poem
I don’t have polish or shine, but I carry truth and
authenticity.
A rusty edge of a blade, the humid summer wind on your face,
the brisk bite of a fall morning.
I come with no warnings, yet I radiate warmth.
I radiate it like a fire made to last:
s’mores by a campfire on a cool, starry night,
surrounded by trees, the moon our only light.
The moon and I have something in common,
mirroring truth as both service and lifeline.
Forget perfection. Give me something real that sends shivers down my spine.
Copyright © Ashley Massey | Year Posted 2026
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