Welcome to The Daily Aftershock Writing Prompt—a daily invitation to write from the edges of aftermath, memory, rupture, and repair.

Each day, you'll receive a short, charged prompt designed to crack something open. There are no rules, only resonance. Use these however you need: to begin a poem, to open your diary, to find your voice again.

The Aftershock Review is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Where is the tiredness today?In your knuckles? In your coccyx? In your jaw?Is it the hum behind your eyes,the salt in your sweat,the teeth grinding themselves into chalk?

Write a poem that maps tiredness as geography.Let the body be the terrain: your spine a mountain,your knees forgotten cities.Does your jaw ache with unspoken grief?Does the air feel thick, like you’re breathing broth?

Write to name the ache, not cure it.Begin with the words:“Today, the tiredness lives in…”

Thanks for reading The Aftershock Review! This post is public so feel free to share it.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit aftershockpoetry.substack.com/subscribe