Holding Space for Emotions with Emory Hall

Emory Hall is an American creative whose poetry has inspired audiences worldwide, garnering her a vast following. The arrival of her now four-year-old son marked her return to writing, ultimately leading to her debut collection, Made of Rivers. Drawing from the depths of her emotional landscape and lived experience, her poems are intimate reflections full of wisdom and tenderness.  

Poetry and motherhood. There’s something about this intersection that captivates. Tell us more about what drew you to poetry as your medium during such a transformative time in your personal life. 

‘I have written for as long as I can remember—sought the blank pages of my journal as a refuge when life felt too big, too raw, too incomprehensible. Those early days of postpartum with my first child, my son, were exactly that. I was cracked open, tender, trying to piece together a self and a body that felt entirely new. Words, as they so often have done for me throughout my life, were the vessel upon which I sought understanding and solace. They helped the fragments slowly fit back together. I poured every ounce of myself onto pages after giving birth—writing was the thread I followed back to myself.’ 

How do you define emotions and why do you think exploring and feeling them fully is important, both personally and creatively? 

 ‘Emotions are how I make sense of the world. I think that’s just how I was made—I’ve never known anything different. To feel deeply, wholly, immensely is to be engaged with this beautiful life. To be alive. To be human. When we turn away from our inner worlds, we close ourselves off from the magic and mystery of being alive. Art is born from feeling. It is the outward expression of our inner landscape. It is holy territory—the heart is the ground from which creative expression blooms. It is a privilege for me to live and work from that space. I don’t know who I’d be without it.’ 

Motherhood awakens in us the full spectrum of emotions, including the more intense, dense ones. How do you navigate those in your day-to-day life? 

‘A mentor once told me that motherhood would give me access to the widest spectrum of emotion—from raw rage to wild joy. It amplifies everything—the hard and the beautiful become louder, deeper. Some days of mothering ask more of me than I knew I had to give. They pull from the deepest wells of my reserves. And on those days—or in their aftermath—I lean on my village. My partner. My loved ones. I ask for help. I let myself receive it. I’ve learned to fill my own cup even when it feels impossible—even when that means five stolen minutes alone in a bath. As mothers, we become experts in making the most out of the smallest windows of time. It’s not easy, but we must give ourselves grace, softness, and care.’ 

What advice would you give others who feel called to express their feelings and inner worlds through creativity in motherhood? 

‘Pour it out. Let it rush through you with wild abandon. Don’t hold back. Scream it from the rooftops. We are so isolated in this modern world—especially as mothers. We need to hear each other’s wailing. We need to witness each other’s joy. That expression keeps us connected. It’s what saves us in the quiet moments when no one knows we’re drowning.’ 

You’ve spoken about the importance of stillness and silence in creative work. Is this a format of self-care for you, and how have you carved out those moments in these past few years? 

‘I used to think silence and stillness were some grand temple I had to chase or build for myself. I spent years seeking it in monasteries tucked away in the Himalayas, in the most remote corners of our world. But since becoming a mother, I’ve realized stillness and silence are much simpler and closer than I thought. They live in our breath. In one barefoot moment in our backyard. By the river. Now. They are available, even in the chaos of raising children and doing life, if we’re willing to notice. And that presence—that breath—gives us worlds in return.’ 

How do you hold space for your child’s more difficult emotions (like anger and frustration) and what advice would you offer parents supporting their little ones through big feelings?  

‘One of the most helpful shifts for me was learning to see my child as having a hard time—not giving me a hard time. That perspective changed everything for me. It allows me now to step into their world instead of forcing them into mine. It’s humbling. It’s hard. But it’s also what has made me feel most connected to my children. The other piece I come back to constantly is that so much of parenting is about my own regulation. Our dysregulation is like fuel on their fire—it escalates everything. So in those difficult moments, I try to breathe, center myself, and model the calm they don’t yet know how to find.’ 

If you could distill the revelations of your creative explorations of motherhood into a few sentences, what would those be and why? 

‘Motherhood is art. It is messy, imperfect, holy, and profound. It is a bottomless ocean of inspiration, if we choose to dive in.’ 

I Have Been a Thousand Different Women

make peace
with all the women
you once were.

lay flowers
at their feet.

offer them incense
and honey
and forgiveness.

honor them
and give them your silence.

listen.

bless them
and let them be.

for they are the bones
of the temple
you sit in now.

for they are
the rivers
of wisdom
leading you toward
the sea.

– Emory Hall

Artwork by Joséphine Klerks