Life, Poetry, Writing

For Green Things

Why do you hate the rain?

Who told you it would always be sunny?

How do you sustain a life in extreme?

When will you learn, green things must be earned?


— Janine Serioux

Life, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

Self-care For the End of the World

  • 2 cups Epsom salt
  • 1/4 cup baking soda
  • 2 tablespoons dried lavender
  • 2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 5 drops peppermint oil

Stir to combine.


Fill a tub,

a bucket,

a sink,

a bowl,

a glass,

a thimble,

with water as warm as you can stand.

Pour in the salt

and stir.

Submerge your body

and soak

until your fingers prune

and the water clouds

with your doubt,


and anxiety.



every inch of the body

that was given to you by someone else

but is yours now.


(If you have a pumice stone,

now would be a good time

to slough off

those chips that have been weighing down your shoulders

and rid yourself

of all your

dead skin).


Pull the stopper from the tub

or sink.

Pour the water from the bucket,



or thimble.


Say goodbye.




— Janine Serioux

Life, Love, Poetry, Writing


When he was wrong
(which was more often than not)
He turned my lap into an alter,
Tonguing out his prayers of gratitude
For my mercy and grace.
He thanked me for my constancy;
That I did not forsake him,
Though he was undeserving
And for forgiving his sins,
While knowing he would sin again.
I heard his prayers
With the serenity of the ocean
And stroking his head,
Answered in the one language he could not understand
is mine.”

Life, Poetry, Writing


For every word I speak or think
there are millions more.
All the ones I do not know the meaning of;
Latin and Greek, syllables deep.
Foreign words that are a phrase,
conveying sensations and universal truth.
Words that are symbols,
curling enigmatically back into themselves
or expressing in dashes or harsh thick lines
something as fragile and fluid as love.
From all the words ever uttered, ever thought,
my clumsy mouth selects from the ones I know and use them to whisper my heart.