Trinity Cathedral Easton

On the first Friday of each month in the worship space of Trinity Cathedral, poetry lovers gather. Some are poets who read their own work, some share the poems of others, others come to listen. This is a community open to any and all, connected by the beauty and power of language. Only a small handful are parishioners; any faith tradition or none, no one asks or cares.

 

The poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer says it best in her poem 

At the Poetry Slam Championship in Kansas

August 2, 2026

 

There in the church of poetry

beneath fluorescent lights

on a makeshift stage, 

one naked heart

after another came to the mic

and through words and breath

they turned wound into blossom 

again and again until the evening

became a giant bouquet

of the unbearable being borne.

It is a terrible gift to make beauty 

out of suffering,

and this is the gift we most need.

But what stays with me, too,

was how each time a poet was called up,

a woman in the middle of the audience

with a voice made of equal parts

midnight and salve

would croon low and smooth, 

Let’s go, poet. 

Each time she spoke it, 

she made a red carpet out of sound, 

a generous path for the poet to step onto.

Each time, she spoke it, 

I felt my whole being soften and open

through the alchemy of encouragement. 

This, too, the gift we most need—

to dare to turn toward

what makes each other bleed.

This, too, transforms wound into generous bloom, 

the gift of hearing and hailing,

honoring each other’s humanness, 

saying yes, I see you, I see you. 

 

 

From  A Hundred Falling Veils,

used with permission of the poet

Website: wordwoman.com

Daily poetry blog: A Hundred Falling Veils

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