Sierra V. Fedorko

Hello, hi🙋‍♀️ Sierra, here. Yes, I still write poetry and no, you’re not imagining things! It’s been awhile since you’ve seen a new one from me in this space.

Summer is busy and the garden is loud this time of year which often lends itself to fewer poems, but the BIG reason you’ve not seen many new poems this season is because I’m in the final stages of drafting my third poetry book! I’m about 10 poems away from meeting the minimum goal (75 poems!!)

July is my final month of intensive writing. It has been exhausting and exhilarating.

These are some of the most personal and vivid poems I’ve ever written. Honest, hopeful. But no tidy bow for this volume of work. Which is the point.

Maybe I keep the the words below in my Introduction to the collection or maybe it will read a little differently by the time you have your hands on the book, but here’s a pretty big sneak peek of what I’m working on and what’s to come…

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“Ever since that day in March there is a sense of sadness I’m at risk to feel when the Mourning Dove calls. Threaded with comfort, peace, and joy, but a sadness all the same. Painful things don’t just go away. And there are things I wish were different even when my life is bursting at the seams, and I find myself happy.

Though the sound of the Mourning Dove has been marred for me, it’s still my favorite birdsong. The call I long to hear and love to hear the most. Somehow I can still say that if peace had a sound, it might be the sound of the waves for some, but it’d be the sound of the Mourning Dove for me.

Brighter days ahead, they always say. Sometimes true on earth. Definitely true in heaven with our Lord at last. But mostly I think those “brighter days ahead” are found when after the heartbreak and during the sorrow and struggles to follow we find ourselves ever nearer to the Lord–glad and at peace–despite it all.

These poems are the lyrics I’d give to the song of the Mourning Dove. It’s the poetry encapsulating these last few years of grieving, wrestling, and struggling–all while tasting joy so fully, savoring every inch of beauty, as my heart held onto my Lord, my Refuge, with an often weak, but staunch white knuckle grasp.

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So, I’ll be over here sharing photos of the garden spilling over the brim in its loud and joyous season while I keep my head down and finish writing this third volume of poetry so dear to my heart, so full of hope, even as wounds remain open.

Curious about my poetry? Grab these FREE downloads. Both collections are emotional, raw, and real. I always keep it gut-honest and hopeful.