poetry | Sarah Reichert Author

Reincarnate

Posted on July 17, 2025July 14, 2025 by sereichert

This week, an incredible poet, humanitarian, human being, and open hearted warrior, was called away. I have long held that some stardust burns too brightly, and the universe becomes jealous…takes it too soon. Perhaps we do not deserve them. We have not become enough of love. We are still too full of hate. We have not learned enough yet, to have deserved them.

Andrea Gibson was an inspiration for kindness. For loving one another, in a world that did not always love them. I hope they are at peace. I will think of them, in quiet mornings. In bird songs. When I sit next to someone touting beliefs meant to divide… I will keep writing poems. I will light up the dark, and do it all, over and over again.

Reincarnate

the patter of rain,

softness of baby cheek,

and the feeling

that we’ve done it all before

cyclical sway of life,

birth to death,

and over again.

rain to ground,

grass rising,

breathing out,

clouds to earth

how quickly we forget our place

soul to body,

body to soul,

and over and over again

recycled lives going

round and round

until we get it right

until we find the answer

punch the ticket

off this spinning ride

i hope i get to love first

i hope i get to love last

i hope i get to love

to love

until all my particles are spent

so it goes

Poetry 7-3-25

Posted on July 3, 2025 by sereichert

Travel leads to thoughts. Interesting new connections and inspirations do too… Travel also leads to not a lot of time getting to sit down and make up blog posts. So I hope you’ll forgive me for posting two poems in a row. This is an older one, not in my current headspace, but always, somehow, tattooed beneath my skin.

Remember Your Lines

What does depression feel like?

Like I want to sleep forever

but every time I fall into that

blissful unconsciousness,

I hope I never come back out

that it’s just a peaceful send off

So long…have a good flight

Don’t call when you get there.

Because…that would be weird

And freak everyone out…

It feels like…

I can’t feel

sunshine, or joy, or pride, or hope

I’m a slab of granite,

wavering on two crumbling pillars of sandstone

stuck in quicksand and sinking

and I don’t care if I go under

in fact, I welcome it and hope

it suffocates me

with calm commands,

breathe in…breath out…and hold

like an MRI of your final moment

but it never tells you

to breath in again

Depression feels like

I have no energy in my synapses

and even if I did, nothing I could do with it

would be worth anything to anyone

least of all myself

Depression is a gray, weighted blanket

only not for comfort, it’s for the unsurmountable load

that life gives you to carry

and you just can’t find a good enough reason

to carry it anymore;

but you can’t find your way out

from underneath it either

Depression is seeing through eyes

that are a movie screen

to an audience that lost its will to care

lacks empathy, doesn’t recognize

Art

or love

or fleeting time

or beauty

Depression is a cage that I shout meaningless words out of,

fake platitudes

in hopes no one else falls into the cage next to me

I’m fine!

You’re fine,

you’re fine, baby girl

you’re fine…

I love you

it’ll be okay

It’ll be okay is tattooed beneath my skin

so that I don’t forget these

lines to a play that I rehearse and repeat,

back to the world that asks

Are you?

Okay?

I look down to the scars I once cut

but can’t cut again; they’ll see

Children learn from watching

so I don’t show,

I tell…

I tell lines

I tell them the lines I need to tell

I tell them,

Though the world is burning around us

and women will never be safe

and human lives don’t matter

cattle for the breeding grounds or

simply to slaughter to the gods of capitalism

Stop!

don’t say that…

don’t project the hopeless…

Read the line

Read the provided line

not the truthful line

of scars….

It’ll be okay

I’m

Okay

You’ll be…

… will you be?

Okay?

Depression is lying to loved ones

so you never have to worry that you’ll be

their downward spiral,

the same scythe of your mother’s loss

that cut you down

Cause we’re all Ok

we just need to…

I just need to

Remember my lines

Poetry 6-27-25

Posted on June 26, 2025June 26, 2025 by sereichert

I am a day late. Well a day for me. For you it’s 11pm but I’m just getting in from a morning run in Stockholm and realized I didn’t set up my blogs for while I was away. I don’t have much, as my trip has a rather demanding schedule and I’m trying to soak in these last few moments with my baby before she flys the nest. So here’s a poem. Next week I will try to do a little better.

Anticipation

Was there ever such sweet anticipation
as a cherry in June?
Held, eager between teeth
where cold water droplets
tease the tongue
before the crisp breaking
of delicate skin
the flush of sun-warmed tartness
carrying along the sugary bite
but tender must teeth sink
to gently toy with the unyeilding stone
sucking it free of bright red pulp
til pristine pebble
is all that's left

Happy and Safe Pride

Posted on June 5, 2025June 5, 2025 by sereichert

In honor of Pride Month and celebrating all of the amazing human beings, in their struggled to be themselves, live fully, and be safe from violence and oppression, I’m doing all I can to support LGBTQ+ writers and poets. Listed below are a group of wonderful authors and their work that you should check out. If you can buy from them directly do, and leave positive reviews if you have some to give. Each one is an opportunity to learn, to grow, to understand and to find connection. Not just this month, but every month. Enjoy and be the loving force for change you want to see in the world.

One Day I Will Write About This Place: A Memoir by Binyavanga Wainaina
As Beautiful as Any Other: A Memoir of My Body by Kaya Wilson
La Bâtarde by Violette Leduc, translated by Derek Coltman
The Truth About Me: a Hijra Life Story by A. Revathi, translated by V Geetha
The Sex Lives of African Women: Self-Discovery, Freedom, and Healing by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah
The Pink Line: Journeys Across the World’s Queer Frontiers by Mark Gevisser
Modern Nature by Derek Jarman
My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi, translated by Jocelyne Allen
People Change by Vivek Shraya
Asylum: A Memoir & Manifesto by Edafe Okporo
Welcome to St. Hell: My Trans Teen Misadventure by Lewis Hancox
We Have Always Been Here: A Queer Muslim Memoir by Samra Habib
Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi
The Other Side of Paradise by Staceyann Chin
Red Azalea by Anchee Min
Me Hijra, Me Laxmi by Laxminarayan Tripathi, translated by PG Joshi and R. Raj Rao
They Called Me Queer compiled by Kim Windvogel and Kelly-Eve Koopman
Unicorn: The Memoir of a Muslim Drag Queen by Amrou Al-Kadhi
Angry Queer Somali Boy: A Complicated Memoir by Mohamed Abdulkarim Ali
Thérèse and Isabelle by Violette Leduc, translated by Sophie Lewis (1966)
Maurice by EM Forster (1971)
Orlando: A Biography by Virginia Woolf (1928)
America is Not the Heart by Elaine Castillo
Hotel World by Ali Smith
Less by Sean Andrew Greer
The Price of Salt aka Carol by Patricia Highsmith
Valencia by Michelle Tea
Under the Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta
Paper is White by Hilary Zaid
Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg.
Orlando by Virginia Woolf
Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin
Sodom Road Exit by Amber Dawn
Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes by Tony Kushner
Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg
The Book of Salt by Monique Truong
Tea by Stacey D’Erasmo
Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters
Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink
Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson
Marriage of A Thousand Lies by SJ Sindu
Nightwood by Djuna Barnes
Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin
Close to Spider Man by Ivan E. Coyote
Jack Holmes and His Friend by Edmund White
A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood
Fruit by Brian Francis
Salt Fish Girl by Larissa Lai
Morrow Island by Alexis M. Smith
Pages for You by Sylvia Brownrigg
Confucius Jane by Katie Lynch
Little Fish by Casey Plett
Such a Lonely, Lovely Road by Kagiso Lesego Molope
She of the Mountains by Vivek Shraya
For Today I Am A Boy by Kim Fu
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown
Disoriental by Négar Djavadi
Speak No Evil by Uzodinma Iweala
The Life and Death of Sophie Stark by Anna North
Never Anyone But You by Rupert Thomson
Hood by Emma Donoghue
Blue Boy By Rakesh Satyal
My Education by Susan Choi
Here Comes The Sun by Nicole Dennis-Benn
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz
We Are Okay by Nina LaCour
Summer of Salt by Katrina Leno
48 Shades Of Brown by Nick Earls
Call Me by Your Name by André Aciman (2007)
The Language We Were Never Taught to Speak by Grace Lau
Butcher by Natasha T. Miller
Water I Won’t Touch by Kayleb Rae Candrilli
The Renunciations by Donika Kelly
Bestiary by Donika Kelly
Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl by Andrea Lawlor
You Better Be Lightning by Andrea Gibson
Lord of the Butterflies by Andrea Gibson
Black Girl, Call Home by Jasmine Mans
Black Queer Hoe by Britteney Black Rose Kapri
If They Come for Us by Fatimah Asghar
Nothing is Okay by Rachel Wiley
Cenzontle by Marcelo Hernández Castillo
The Tradition by Jericho Brown
Soft Science by Franny Choi
Bodymap by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha
Night Sky With Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong
When the Chant Comes by Kay Ulanday Barrett
More Than Organs by Kay Ulanday Barrett
Don’t Call Us Dead by Danez Smith
Things You Left Behind by Keondra Bills Freemyn
Femme in Public by Alok Vaid-Menon
Wild Embers by Nikita Gill
Chelsea Girls by Eileen Myles (1994)

BOOKS: POETRY

Poetry 5-22-25

Posted on May 22, 2025May 20, 2025 by sereichert

I’m in a weird mood today. This is the season of transitions, of pressures and demands, and I feel like I’m shutting down in the face of so much of it. Here’s a weird poem to align the inner workings of my mind to the outer life, relentlessly attacking.

Sweater

I put your memory on
like an old sweater
in all the little winters
of my despair

Here the arms pull through
to hide the stinging cuts
Here, ribbed neck fraying
to protect from the noose of loss

Here the cabled warmth
falling over my eviscerated belly
Here your memory tucks my vital pieces 
back together, safe and warm

The woolen comfort of words
I will never hear again
from nights you probably don't remember
a softness in the dark, held briefly

I am a lint fuzz on your shoulder
but you are my favorite sweater
the one I cannot sleep without
the only thing that offers relief

Purpose and hope exist
in the scratchy bulk
of a garment I once borrowed
but was never mine to wear

I put your memory on
like my favorite sweater
in all these winters
of self-imposed despair.

Poetry and Poetic Books

Posted on May 1, 2025April 28, 2025 by sereichert

I’m going to drive ya’ll nuts, but there’s a link below, if you’re interested in buying my latest book; “No Words After I Love You”.

This stand alone novel is a journey through grief, friendship, creativity and love. It’s about how the heart heals, (or doesn’t) and all the ways humans punish themselves in an effort to be ‘strong’. It’s about deep-seated friends, the kind you’d answer the phone for, even if you don’t answer the phone. It’s about choosing your own family, and learning how to let go the wounds from the real one. Its about trying not to fall in love, even when your heart is already decided. It’s about soup, and rain on dirt roads, its about knowing how they take their coffee and a campaign for bushier, wilder eyebrows. It’s about denouncing god and still finding divinity. Check it out: BUY NO WORDS AFTER I LOVE YOU

And now, a short poem:

Daredevil

My heart does all her own stunts
Never one to sit back from the danger
or sip Rosé while someone else 
takes the fall

Oh no, she's always been 
all in

She sees the perilous ledge
the death defying leap
the broken bone canyon 
and nods with bravado
flicks her Marlborough into the abyss
exhales the clouds of calm
and dives in

My heart does all her own stunts
but the scars are starting to show
and the puckered skin 
and toughened hide
cannot beat as strongly
as her younger self once did
The bullets she's taken, stab wounds
and excisions
the irreparable losses that linger
in phantom limb syndrome
beat ragged and untimed

My heart does all her own stunts
but I cannot convince her to stop

Poetry 4-10-2025

Posted on April 10, 2025March 24, 2025 by sereichert

The Other Half Lives

She breaks the silence
with the crack of a match strike
instant whirl of smoke
and snap
open jumps the flame

She’s Magic on dark nights
when I need reprieve
from myself
when I yearn
to slip into someone
else’s skin and be
the one my parents
warned me about

The kind who lives truth
through match strikes
and bared teeth and
hard, dirty alleys
rough brick scraping
backs of thighs
and halting breath
that never begs

Unleashed from boredom
She carries the burning ember of strife
at the end of her cigarette and
coaxes the glowing cinder with
deep inhalations
Blowing out sinuous tails
through lips
split by love

Back again for more?
Quirked eyebrow, pierced and dauntless

yes, again
pray unbroken lips
with underground currents
of tightly wound desire.

S.E. Reichert

Poetry 3-13-25

Posted on March 13, 2025March 11, 2025 by sereichert

HEART

She is a bore
and a lofty braggart
claiming forever
but following the newest smell 
away from her leash

She is tender and full
a bag tensed, to burst
at the slightest slight
heavy with blood and the suffering of want

She is the doorway
to a thousand churches
and the carnal sacrilege 
of all good, and wild things

She is latin
for courageous
and holds my breath and my breathlessness
in space between her beats

She is a pauper
always begging 
and a selfless saint
giving away all of her compassion in bills
like she could not take it with her

She dances in the kitchen
with a baby on her hip
even when that baby is 
long, gone
grown

She lights up like Christmas
and echoes in dark gothic hallways

She shudders and trips
beats steady and sound
she's the only one I can ever claim
is mine
And yet, so often
I still think her, 
a stranger
in my chest

We couldn't live without each other.
I hope
whatever the next life brings
I can take her with me.

Poetry 2-20-25

Posted on February 20, 2025February 18, 2025 by sereichert

I’ve been participating in my own little poetry month challenge in an effort to get back into the swing of the art. For one, it’s a managable way for me to be able to write something every day, even in the chaos of my to do list. For two, I think it’s been very cathartic in helping me work through some of the things landing in my life (and all of our lives right now). The rage inside me finds a place on the page so I can clear a more rational path. The sadness gets to have its moment too, so I can move past the emotion and focus on how best to use my empathy. You don’t have to be good at it to write poetry. You just have to write it.

Daylight

Poems written by daylight
are hopeful, funny creatures
not yet domesticated by the world
shackled by the weight of 
unbearable odds

Poems written in the high-sun hours
are words through clear eyes
not yet burning with the fire of 
thousands of thoughts, words read,
millions of stitches placed across the
wound of our burning, tumultuous world

Poems written when I've still got time in the day
are different
I haven't properly fucked anything up
yet
there is still hope that I may not
I'm a glowing human goddess
for whom possibilities still exist

Poems written by daylight
seem hopeful and clear
unweighted and resilient
but they are 
not me
not in total
It is the reticent dark, the weary and
mistake-riddled soul
sitting in the deep weighted night,
still choosing to pick up the pen 
who is truly
the poet.

Poetry 1-23-2025

Posted on January 23, 2025January 20, 2025 by sereichert

It’s a tumultuous time. An era where its hard to trust information, its hard to have privacy, and its even harder to envision a world where we can be a functioning community again. These are the days that try good hearts. You are not alone. We are all in some phase of struggle. We are all clawing our way up. I love you. I see you. Do what you can, to be kind to yourself and others today. Don’t give up.

Love Me Enough

I've tried to breathe it away
this constant ache 
a hunger, not satiated

I've tried to busy it away
with lists 
and checked boxes

I've tried running it away
until my knees were torn
and my vertebra grew together

I've tried laughing it away
your darkest friend
is always the most funny

I've tried writing it away
harsh words and compassionate pages
like arms to enfold, or choke

I've tried drinking it away,
until all I lost were words
and years with my children

I've tried cutting it away
sharp stings and
barely hidden red bracelets

hoping someone would notice
but even when they did
no one loved me enough to stop me

I'm trying to love me enough to stop me
I'm trying, this time
to love it away

And I'm learning
that means
feeding myself on breath
sitting through it in stillness
running headlong into the fire
allowing the storm to laugh through me
and writing only the truth
watering my brain like a garden
holding my body close like a child
Soothing the scars and 
loving the woman who survived long enough
to stand in love now