Vox Populi
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Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: Letter to the Others in the Dark
I am writing not to send you light,
but to let you know you are not alone
in the darkness. I am here, too,
scribbling with no sight, no certainty
that the words on the page are legible,
no confidence you will receive this.
Still this impulse to reach out,
this longing to honor this deepening darkness,
though it is confusing, disorienting.
I find myself reminding myself
such darkness is natural, essential even,
and there is some comfort
in knowing this, in trusting I am part
of some great process, even though
it terrifies me. This is how the world
has been made and remade.
Of course we are no different
than stars. Perhaps you are not frightened.
But I am. Maybe this is why I reach out.
Because it takes so much courage
to trust the dark place, to attend to its demands,
to believe this is not the end, but a pause,
a stage between one world and another.
Please, don’t send me light either.
I don’t think I am ready yet, the pain still sharp,
not yet softened, not yet become wings,
though part of me longs to have already
arrived on the other side of transformation.
Perhaps you are reaching for me, too.
Perhaps you have already written
on this page, and because it is dark,
I can’t read what you’ve said.
Perhaps believing this makes me less alone.
And this is why I write.
Copyright 2025 Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer lives with her husband and daughter in Placerville, Colorado, on the banks of the wild and undammed San Miguel River. She served as San Miguel County’s first poet laureate (2007-2011) and as Western Slope Poet Laureate (2015-2017). Her many collections of poetry include The Unfolding.
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Always, you bring me back to the nurturing truth. Love this one! ❤ ❤ ❤
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“Because it takes so much courage
to trust the dark place, to attend to its demands,
to believe this is not the end, but a pause,
a stage between one world and another.”
Such comfort in this beautiful poem, Rosemerry. Thank you ❤️
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In awe, as always, how Rosemerry meets me where I am, as I was this morning, writing into the darkness, sensing an unknown other there. This poignant poem brought to mind a long loved one I hadn’t thought about in years, “Growing Light” by George Ella Lyon, that begins: “I write this poem/out of darkness/for you/who are also in darkness/because our lives demand it.”
Lyon continues, “This poem is a hand on your shoulder/a bone touch to go with you…” Exactly what Rosemerry’s poem is for us in this moment. How needed and welcome is that!
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What a lovely and perceptive comment, Dianne. Thank you!
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Dear Rosemerry, not a day goes by that your words remind me that I am not alone in the midst of it all. By all, I mean everything . . .
May you and your loved ones be well,
❤️you, Bob
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Oh Bob, thank you for this kind note. May you and your loved ones be well, too!
yours in the everything,
r
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Yes.
Thank you for this poem, Rosemerry, where I am surprised to find I have already written on the page, too.
Blessings on your Courage. May you continue to be its Portal.
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Thank you, Owen ❤️❤️ … what a beautiful blessing.
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Oh Rosemerry, I am so comforted by her courage “to trust the dark place, to attend to its demands, to believe this is not the end, but a pause”. This is a poem to share with anyone, ie everyone, who at some point is in a dark place.
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Yes!
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Big hugs to you, Jan–oh this trust is, i think, much easier when we don’t feel so alone … even when we are utterly alone.
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Bless you Rosemerry, you help me and so many others not to feel so alone, ‘even when we are utterly alone’. xoxoxo
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🌫️🌒🤎
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🤎🤎🤎
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Love Rosemerry. Every poem is a gift.
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Truly
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Thank you, dear Donna ❤️❤️
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❤️❤️❤️
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“Please, don’t send me light either.
I don’t think I am ready yet,”
I love Rosemerry’s work.
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Oh, yes!
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🤎🤎🤎 thank you
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What a powerful (and, curiously comforting) poem, a hand reaching out into the darkness that is descending on us all. And, yes, I too am afraid. And, yes, I too am not ready for the ‘light’, because it’s not yet real. We do live in a world that is convulsing and changing and we are in the maelstrom, wobbling on unstable and invisible tectonic plates.
“and there is some comfort / in knowing this, in trusting I am part / of some great process, even though / it terrifies me.”
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Exactly. I’m not ready for the light either.
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oh you touched the truth so beautifully … “because it’s not yet real.” thank you for helping me see why I’m not yet ready …
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Indeed, Rosemerry, who grows by only looking on the bright side of things?
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yes, exactly ❤️❤️
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And so, thanks to Rosemerry’s poems, we find — even in the illegible, unsayable dark — a togetherness (a “less aloneness”) that consoles, soothes, appeases. That’s what true poetry does, isn’t it?
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Indeed!
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yes, a “less aloneness.” I am so glad to be in this poeming life with you, Laure-Anne
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In another glorious poem of hers, Rosemerry quotes James Crews: There are so many ways to hold and be held. This poem holds me in many of those ways through the stumbles of darkest nights and days.
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Ahhh, thank you for invoking that line–I think of it so often … 🤎🤎
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This poem is exactly what I needed this morning. Thank you for reading my mind
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Thanks, Yvette. Rosemerry’s poems are medicine for the soul.
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Thank you, dear Michael
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🤎🤎🤎 thank you, Yvette ❤️
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