Chelsea’s debut poetry collection, The Mother Tree, examines the themes of being and becoming, especially through the lens of motherhood.

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Praise for The Mother Tree

  • "I can think of no other living poet who so earnestly weaves together the spiritual and the sylvan than Chelsea Fraser. With her debut The Mother Tree, Fraser shows that the glory and radiance of God is not a thing in contrast to the earthy tangibility of nature. Rather she shows us that there is indeed no separation between the sacred and the living green world."

    Nicholas Trandahl

    award-winning poet, author of Purgatory and Cabin Sketches

  • "The Mother Tree is a collection of enchanting poetry, and its marriage with theology and biology makes it a stunningly impactful book that will speak to mothers, nature-lovers, and dreamers alike. I devoured this book; Chelsea's artful imagery hit my spirit like an afternoon of forest bathing on a brilliant sunny day."

    Deidre Braley

    writer, editor, speaker, author of The Shapes I Take

  • "If creativity is like a tree, then reading Fraser’s first collection of poems is like watching leaves unfurl from buds and seeing the whole tree burst to life in the warmth of spring. These poems invite you not to observe from a distance but to climb inside and enjoy the view from their branches. What you see there enlivens and gives hope."

    Wes Vander Lugt (Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary)

    theologian and author of Beauty is Oxygen: Finding a Faith that Breathes

  • "The poems in Chelsea Fraser’s The Mother Tree sing of mothering in all its joy, uncertainty, pain, and wonder. This book is beautiful. And beyond that, it’s good—the product of a creativity shaped by grace and extending compassion in every direction. Fraser’s poems cast a loving gaze on generations both before and after, toward the author’s own mother and father, toward her young children. And even more poignantly, Fraser manages to offer understanding to the young mother herself as the speaker of the poems and, by extension, to the book’s reader. These poems will nourish your heart."

    Jennifer Peterson,

    author of Must Resemble Leisure

  • "New chapters in life need new metaphors. They help us make sense of where we are and what we have become when nothing seems familiar. Chelsea gives us a forest of metaphors to process the startling newness that motherhood brings. Her poems help us recognize with gratitude the strong loved ones around us and the solidity of our love for our families, even when we feel weakest."

    Michelle Radford

    visual artist

Journal Publications

Ekstasis Magazine

“Winter Blooms”

“March Sonnet”

The Dewdrop

“October”, republished

Vessels of Light Literary Magazine

“Fortune”

"Evensong”

“Fire”

“How Does the Spirit Move”

"Night Bursts”

“November Sonnet”

Persephone Literary Magazine

“The Olive Tree” 

The Way Back to Ourselves Literary Magazine

“The Mother Tree”

“Shelter #5 at Sulphur Springs”

“Waiting Room”

“October”

“Matrescence: I”

“For Bartleby”

“March”

“Maple Me”

“Quiet Things”

“March 11”

“Buried Faith”

“Testament”

“Waking Thoughts”

Calla Pres Publishing

Living in Wonder, Spring 2025 print journal

“May Sonnet”

“Revolutions”

FORTHCOMING: Dear Jesus: A Collection of Love Letters to the One Who Loved Us First, an anthology

“A Hurricane Liturgy”

“Water of Life”

Be a mountain

full of wow

and all the pieces of one thousand lives

that up and down transcribe,

their heavy footfalls landing somewhere sure,

unmistakable:

rock and tree

and deep-stacked plates tectonic—

millennia preserving heaps of earth

that find us even from afar. Yes,

be a mountain,

landmark for the lost who seek a home,

who long for something safe

that they can find without a search,

who know no map is needed here

amidst the hulking rock

that lends itself a tribute

to wanderers and settlers,

anyone who walks. If I could

be a mountain,

unselfconscious,

standing tall,

full of what I am,

visible and generous

even with my flaws

could I receive the calming

and the stillness

and the hope that moulder there?

How I long to
be a mountain.