Tag: Grief

Silence In The Trees

I observed a moment of silence
Studied it closely as it eased
its way through a copse of
barren birch trees
Soundless
like a stalking lioness
Its hue an intoxicating
shade of azure blue
It had belonged to someone
I knew by the faint odor of
grief still clinging
I called to it but it
knew it did not belong
with me

There Are Times

There are times when
no amount of crying
will suffice
though the great seas
rise and swell from
the depth and deluge of
our sorrow
the dead will not return
to life
love denied will remain
unrequited
Wars will continue to absorb
the small broken bodies
of the innocent
but cry we must

and shall

for there are times
when tears are all that
are left to us

No Title Will Suffice . . .

He is
fading away
with all the
grace
that one could
hope to coax
from one
simple dog.
His days
of play
have flown
away
and the ghost
in his shell
wanders the spaces,
stumbling into
corners,
daring not
to turn
left or right,
his sight
having betrayed
him
and anyway
it feels
safe there
I suppose,
enclosed,
a cocoon
carved from
a large room.
What am I
to do?
He seems to
be through
though I imagine
I see a puppy
in his face,
me, in this
horrid place
of deciding
his fate –
or do I
wait, not knowing
what great pain
there may be
or what tragedy
may strike
like a thief
in the night?
Fourteen years
he has given
his all,
who am I
to forestall his
peaceful passage
and then again,
who am I
to say
he won’t last?
The end comes,
nowhere to run,
I must face
that day
with him,
I cannot
shun
this debt
of love,
even to the
breaking
of
my
heart

Aftermath

The fatigue
that follows
a funeral
dwells
in the
belly
of the
casket,
slipping up
stealthily
as you
stand there,
stealing
a slice
of your
soul,
pulling it
ever so
silently
down
through
the
satin
seams
and holding
it there,
never to
see the sun
again,
returned
to the
earth
before
its
time