Artist Series: What I didn't know before

On Writing: Three poems by Maria Giesbrecht

I’m delighted to introduce you to the captivating work of

Maria Giesbrecht

. When I stumbled upon her poem, “what i didn’t know before,” I had a revelation that echoed through my entire life. I realized I’d spent my whole life waiting. Not waiting for love, but waiting for something. Something else. Something more. Something better. And well, I’m still waiting, but I’m trying to find the presence in the moments that bring me joy. I'm actively transforming the rest of that waiting into action, and I’m learning to stop waiting to take a breath.

“what I didn’t know before” served as my entry into Maria's profound world of poetry, and I fell head over heels for her entire body of work. The way she writes about her father makes my stomach hurt. I relish poems that can make me hurt or take the wind out of me. “Not All My Ghosts” did this for me. The last line. Oof. I’m still recovering. I admire her fearlessness in tackling the tough subjects and her unwavering commitment to telling the truth. I try to do the same in my writing, walking the tightrope of truth and pain of my past, forever writing about my mother, my father, and where I came from.

Maria writes the Substack

Segments with Maria Giesbrecht

where she shares her poetry, imparts valuable writing insights, and offers behind-the-scenes glimpses into her creative process. She says she’s really good at peeling oranges, which has, interestingly, become a metaphor for her life—peeling back the layers of fear, trauma, and adversity to produce work she can deeply and proudly stand by. I encourage you to explore her work. You’ll find beauty there, but more importantly, you’ll find truth.

---

---

Maria Giesbrecht is a Toronto based poet and the author of Peeling Oranges (2022). She is also the founder of Campfire Poets, a poetry collective dedicated to slow storytelling. Her work has been published in Contemporary Verse 2, Sunday Mornings at the River, the York Journal, and is forthcoming in Talon Review. She is the 2022 runner up for the Eden Mills Poetry Contest.  Maria is passionate about "s" sounds, list poems, mixing orange juice and espresso, and sharing this one wild and precious life with other creatives.

Before we get into Maria’s work, let’s start with three questions.

---

» What are you reading right now?

I'm re-reading Sharon Old's Stag's Leap. I am thoroughly fascinated by her writing every time I revisit her collections. Fiction-wise, I'm in the midst of Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. 

» What do you do when you're coming up against resistance, and you can't seem to get to the center of the thing—the writing, the living, the task at hand? How do you get to where you want to go?

I overcome resistance in my writing practice by focusing less on creating an end product, and more on exploring as I go. If I can enjoy the hell out of writing a few lines, that to me is far more "productive" than painstakingly editing a poem that feels like its life has already had its moment. I want to play when I write. If I'm not having fun, I wait until it feels fun again.

» Tell me about this essay. Where did it come from?

This piece came to me after reading Ada Limón's piece "What I Didn't Know Before". I also watched a TikTok that morning on how dolphins are never fully asleep because they have to come up for air still. Something about these two concepts, and having recently left a relationship where I was always the one "waiting", made some magic in my brain and I wrote it all down. Ironically, I stopped waiting, and I'm still breathing.

---

Three poems
by Maria Giesbrecht

what i didn’t know before (after Ada Limón)

was that dolphins are never fully asleep. One side
of their brain stays awake. This warm
blooded cursed mammal still needs to
come up for air. I love you like
this. In the void of waiting for winter, hellbent on
being together — on
breathing, half of my heart
was always awake.

Not All My Ghosts (after Anne Sexton)

wear white and come in
through the windows

some wear dress pants and
crawl in through the front door,
wiping their whiskey breath
on the welcome mat

not all my ghosts overstay their
welcome

some leave in the middle of the
night without saying goodbye

not all my ghosts call me their
daughter
but most do

he asks you if you’re okay and you say:

a.) pshhh….I played in the streets until sundown
rode my purple supercycle home at high speed—
let’s get
out of here before you can show me no

b.) I have ten thousand teeth and a desire to hurt
only one father

c.) no, I break best in the dark — but you already
knew that

d.) sometimes, I think I love you

---

Where to find Maria:
Website | Substack | Instagram | Buy Her Book

---

If you enjoyed this Artist Series feature, you may also like this one…