HeyJaredThe Soul Shelf
For hearts that seek. Every edition includes an original poem and reflections on love, healing, growth, and the quiet truths we often overlook.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 9
- Latest publication
- Sep 27, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 5, 2026
Latest issues
To wait is to love (opens the original)
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Sometimes love is about waiting effortlessly, and simply having somewhere your gaze can rest.Facing YouI sit facing you,like a mirror.You lose yourselfin the vastness of thought—I lose myselfin the universe of you.The world changes around me.I do not turn—I let my eyes fillwith you,to the brim.I remain—in silent waiting,<spa
A Weekend Check-In With My Heart (opens the original)
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Today, I slept a lot. I woke when the sun was already overhead—which felt mildly rebellious, considering my usual weekday relationship with the alarm clock. It was lovely to wake up knowing I had actually slept, without the weekday rush of having to immediately step into work, or pretend that morning is a perfectly reasonable time to be a functioning human.There was no alarm. No rushing into the day. Instead, I woke up to my mom’s voice, a bit startled—the way I usually wake up to my third and l
Beyond Black & White: Learning to Hold the In-Between — with Maria Mecham (opens the original)
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There is something deeply comforting about black and white. Isn’t it?Good. Bad.Right. Wrong.Villain. Victim.Healed. Broken.Over it. Not over it.If we can name something, perhaps we can understand it. If we can decide who is right and who is wrong, perhaps the world feels a little more manageable.But life rarely stays inside clean containers. and I sat down for a conversation about exactly that: the many shades of life that don't fit neatly into black and white.And because we are both poets, natu
The Premonition, The Intuition (opens the original)
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Perhaps we spend much of our lives walking towards moments we cannot yet see—until one day, they arrive, and something inside us says: ”This. I know this.”<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="78.89148351648352" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s
The Stir in My Sound Box (opens the original)
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I stare at my face,facing a wall of cracked mirrors—with eyes still,cold, numb,a stare that speaks,like the low humof a radiotrying to catch a signal,restless to expressthe ballooning feelingsrising inside—I shut my eyesunable to look.I feel the windtightening around me,like a rope.I do not resist its force.My mind, like a top,spins around a question—will my voice find form,will I be heard?My unsaid wordsgather above me,grey.I wail, I plead.The shell of my silencec
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