A LIVING ARCHIVE OF POEMS
Celebrating 20 Years of Poetry
Read A Little Poetry began as a personal commonplace book in 2005. Today, it has become a living archive and beloved home for poetry lovers, readers, educators, and seekers of language that holds us. Join us in celebrating two decades of gathering poems that have carried us through. Thank you for being part of this journey.
My Mother’s Hair by Nancy Holmes
My Mother's Hair
Nancy HolmesI know a woman who keeps her dead mother’s hair,
a pair of auburn braids, severed and sewn onto a scarf.Two years after my mother’s death, I walk
in the soft, searing claws of the sun.Cool shade from a tree washes over me,
flooding through the hairs on my arms.Yesterday, my grandchild asked,
why are there shadows?If the sun is so strong,
why can’t it shine through things?Things are a gathering, so bound even the sun
can’t part them. That is life, all braided.A coffin slides on rails to the cremation oven.
A woman preserves a piece of her mother coiled in a box.In the sun, microscopic shadows of the hair on my arms
stripe my skin. These days, a forest or a grasslandcan be flooded with a tidal wave of flames so fast
all the shadows burn.After my walk, in the kitchen, I open a bag
of frozen blueberries my mother packed for mebefore she died. Among the dusky pellets, I find
a single grey hair clinging to the frost.What the sun can’t penetrate — boxes, trees,
cloth, ropes of hair, purple berries, grief —flames transform into senseless ash.
The freezer bag releases a trace of scent:the berries’ ghostly nectar. I drop
a handful of icy fruit into the bowland eat my mother’s hair.
KEEP READING
SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in The Fiddlehead, 2025.
ABOUT NANCY HOLMES
Nancy Holmes has published six collections of poetry, mostly recently Arborophobia (University of Alberta Press, 2022). Her last publication, The Flicker Tree: Okanagan Poems (Ronsdale Press, 2012), is a collection of poems about the place, people, plants and animals of the Okanagan valley in the southern interior of British Columbia. She is also the editor of Open Wide a Wilderness: Canadian Nature Poems (Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2009). With her colleague Denise Kenney… (more)
Read more poems by Nancy Holmes • Find books by this poet on Amazon • Bookshop • Website • Or view my library
ENDNOTES
- Explore other works in pursuit of: mother • death • memory • Or browse the index
- If this work resonates with you, please consider supporting the archive. Thank you for reading.
ON THIS DAY
EXPLORE THE ARCHIVE
Poems for the moment & for always
Over the years, this space has grown into an ever-expanding archive of words that comfort, challenge, and inspire. Whether you are seeking solace, rediscovering an old favorite, or finding new voices to love, start here.
THE JOURNEY
A Love Letter to Our Readers
I started Read A Little Poetry when I was 19, posting poems late at night from my bedroom. I didn’t know then that I was building a home—just that I needed one. I’ve been tending to this archive quietly for twenty years, out of love, out of need, out of belief in the life-saving power of poetry. What a miracle that you’ve found your way here.
Poetry is how I mark time. This site is how I remember I’ve lived.
SELECTED BY OUR GUEST CURATORS
Poems We Carry
To mark our 20th year milestone, we invited beloved poets to share a poem they carry with them—one that changed them, stayed with them, or saved them. Their reflections are tender, surprising, luminous.
A LEGACY OF POETRY
This is Our Story
Read A Little Poetry began as an anonymous blog over two decades ago. But over time, it’s become something more—a companion to grief and joy, a resource in classrooms, a place to begin again. Below are stories from those who’ve walked with poetry, and with me, through the years.
Letters from our readers
Reflections from those who found a poem here when they needed one most
Share your
story
Have you carried a poem from this site into your life? I’d love to hear about it.
HELP US KEEP GOING
A space for
poems & for you
For twenty years, Read A Little Poetry has remained free and ad-free—a living archive built from the ground up with love, time, and care. My goal is to support independent poetry: to make space for it, to keep it visible, to let it be found.
This space exists because of you. Whether you found it during a lonely morning, a deep heartbreak, or a restless night—whether you’ve sent a poem to a friend, printed one for your class, or returned here just to feel something—your presence matters.
To everyone who has supported this archive through donations or ongoing subscriptions: thank you. You’ve helped keep the lights on.
Your generosity sustains not only this site, but the belief that poetry deserves to be findable, shared, and remembered.
Holding poets to the light
Read A Little Poetry wouldn’t be what it is today without you.
Thank you for your love of poetry and for being here.
