Dig deeper and I will gift you a key to parts of me the world has never met, where even the brightest moon won’t cast a shadow.

Poem: Dig by Ronna Grace Funtelar

When people ask me about my poetry, I say that I’m a ‘sometimes poet’. Yes, I write poetry, even perform them from time to time, yet I’ve never committed to it enough to improve my craft. The words sort of just fell out. I feel like some of my best writing came from a woman who was angry, self-loathing and lacked direction, even if I was always on the move. Think of the impact Alanis Morissette’s ‘Jagged Little Pill’ album had on the 90s woman. She gave you an anthem for every scorned lover.

These days, I’m more grounded and have learned to focus my energy better. My relentless questioning of what is possible has taken me up incredible mountains, swimming in glacial lakes, and listening to life stories of fascinating strangers. Even better, I can say that I’m finally happy where I’ve landed in life. When I got back into poetry slam last year (my first in three years), I wanted to write poetry that reflected the changed woman who came back from Perú. I felt like a butterfly tentatively waking up from its cocoon. It was interesting to discover that even though I felt I had let go of so much already, it was much harder to break the muscle memory of my writing.

For five years I was a woman on a journey - walking away her sadness after the traumatic end of a relationship. Writing and sharing those adventures was cathartic because it gave me something tangible to focus on. Writing made me experience nature at a much greater depth - words flowed because I was more present, more open to be affected by what I was experiencing at that moment.

Poetry came later, filling a different void. I saw how my introvertedness was a convenient excuse to keep people out, and that needed to change. With poetry, I gave a voice to everything I never felt brave enough to speak out loud before. I craved connection, and I found it behind a microphone. ‘My mother’s daughter’ and ‘The death rattle of my ovaries’ came from a time when I was trying to have a more honest relationship with my mum, especially as an adult.

Why have I struggled to write happy poetry, even when I’m happy? It’s natural to root for the underdog, and as humans we like to see people win against the odds. I bought into the mindset that the greater the suffering, the sweeter the reward. My poetry was centred around love, and often my limited understanding of what healthy intimacy looked like. “Dig deeper and I will gift you a key to parts of me the world has never met, where even the brightest moon won’t cast a shadow,” is my way of saying that I don’t really know if I’m even ready to let anyone in, but I’m open to it. 

That’s when I realised that my poetry is simply a symptom of my thoughts, therefore I had to start being more accountable to myself. They say that we are most influenced by the top five people we surround ourselves with - well what about our top five thoughts? What would be possible if I redirected the focus of ‘not wanting to be single’ into something else? For a week? A month? A year? 

There’s no denying the power of words - some pieces of writing I wear like an invisible tattoo. I have transmuted my trauma, and that story now belongs to the left of a definitive full stop. Designing and living the life I want means intentionally walking towards just that. And we know how much I love walking. I think if I just focus on that this year, my writing, and especially my poetry will begin to evolve too.

xo Ronna Grace

fivefootronna is Ronna Grace Funtelar - a thirtyish adventurer, sometimes poet and lover of cheese. She has a unique brand of optimism that is a combination of her great enthusiasm for life and cups of coffee during the day.