A poet tackles grief — and pushes back on pretending ‘everything is OK’

In a new series USA TODAY’s The Essentials, celebrities share what fuels their lives, whether it’s at home, on the set or on the road.
On a rainy day in Sonoma, California, a young Ada Limón tucked herself under a tree for cover.
“How amazing it was that this tree could protect me. It was such a place of safety for me,” she remembers thinking. It was a “core memory” and the first time the 24th Poet Laureate of the United States − the first Latina appointed to the role − felt a “deep connection” to nature.
“It’s been a long process because I’ve always felt connected to nature, but I’ve also felt the harm we’ve created,” the 2023 MacArthur Fellowship awardee tells USA TODAY.
Her signature project as poet laureate, “You Are Here,” focuses on how poetry can help connect people to the natural world. Limón, who was named a 2024 Time magazine woman of the year, is the author of six poetry books, and the devotion she has for poetry and nature runs deep.
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“I can’t always promise it,” she says, “but I hope others will find something in my work that allows them to dislodge something in them and free something in them as well.”
Most recently, Limón wrote two children’s books: “In Praise of Mystery” (out now) and “And, Too, the Fox” (out 2025). The poet also had an original poem commissioned by NASA that was launched into space on the Europa Clipper mission this month.
Limón shares her essentials for reading, writing and existing in the world.
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For Limón, “bringing pen to paper” isn’t just a saying.
“I write by hand mostly. And in blank journals, without any lines in them − I need to be free to make up my own lines and sometimes draw terrible drawings of things in my mind. I also prefer black ink.
“The biggest writing tools we all need are peace, safety and silence.”
Meditation and gratitude also help the poet feel grounded and have become “an integral part” of her daily routine.
“Taking a couple of deep breaths before I write and thinking about how grateful I am to get the chance to do this and just honoring the craft itself, that’s also a big part of my routine.”
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Recurrent themes in Limón’s poetry − specifically in “Bright Dead Things” and “The Carrying” − are death, grief, love and joy, and how they coexist.
“As a society, we don’t take time to grieve at all,” she says. “You can lose someone that is everything to you and then you’re supposed to go back to work and act as if everything is OK. Even on a larger scale, we’re supposed to lose human beings and just be fine with it.”
Through her poetry, Limón grieves moments she won’t get back, family members who have died, loved ones who will inevitably die, the children she cannot bear and the collective grief of a country in turmoil.
“I can write a poem today and it still might be about the stepmother I lost in 2010 to colon cancer. It could be 14 years later but I still need to write about her, feel her and recognize her and witness her life. That feels really essential to me.”
For Limón, grief has a life of its own. “It’s not always about covering up the wound but instead blessing it in some ways, owning it and letting it make you more tender to the world instead of closed off and rageful, which I think could easily be the choice we make.”
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What better writing companion than a four-legged furry friend? “Ideally, I’ve got my sweet dog next to me. When she snores, I know I’m in a good rhythm and that I’ve been writing for some time.”
For the “Sharks in the Rivers” author, “Hearing the birds, hearing the weather change and the sounds of nature” is essential, because after all, “all of that goes into my work, the world alive and humming.”
Limón adds she has been reading “a lot of wonderful poets, a lot of Palestinian poets,” including Fady Joudah’s 2024 poetry collection “[…]” and Maya Abu Al-Hayyat’s “You Can Be the Last Leaf: Selected Poems.” “I’m reading so many things.”
Limón often forgets she’s “only one person,” or else she’d take “You Are Here” to every national park if she could.
Launched during April’s National Poetry Month, “You Are Here: Poetry in the Natural World” comprises two initiatives: an anthology of 50 original nature poems and a series of visits to national parks featuring installations of poetry as public art. (The final stop is in December at Saguaro National Park, Arizona, to showcase a poem by Native American poet Ofelia Zepeda.)
Still, the work she’s doing is giving her a chance to “amplify even more poetic voices,” including “our quintessential nature poet” Mary Oliver, and legacy poets like Francisco X. Alarcón, June Jordan and Lucille Clifton.
“It feels very powerful to me, to be able to bring these poets and these parks together.”