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Open Poetry #47
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A lesson in loss (repost for soon approaching anniversary)
| Open Poetry #47 |
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A lesson in loss (repost for soon approaching anniversary) |
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luminosity Senior Member
since 2005-11-18
Posts 813
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( with no idea what was forthcoming, I wrote this...the day before he died ) A time to mourn Nov. 14, 03 hands clasped around knees she sits unmoving, for these are the days when the trees are crying contrasted by the dark threatening sky their tears fall silently one on top of the other hands clasped around knees she sits unmoving, grieving with the trees she could be raking, tidying the disorder, bagging and tying up the weeping, but at this moment nourishment need be stored for future growing now is the time for all that is unfaithful to be leaving hands clasped tight she sits unmoving, for these are the days for crying Four minus one leaves three (December 2004) ________________________________________ the grieving process (as told by the mother) No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! (I still hear his sister scream) it isn’t true you are lying it isn’t true stop saying that you are lying! (no no no no no no no no no) The policeman (I suppose) was the one who was speaking I could see the words falling from his mouth and my son’s father helplessly fighting the air as if to keep them from landing and this was interrupted only by the sound of crying. After forever had past they let us see him the coldness of his skin had no power over his beauty- over and over we kissed his precious face as if our touch could warm him as if our love would wake him. And then they said it was time to leave. I understand now the reason of the blackening of the sky when on the cross God’s Son hung. This darkness is written on the hearts of the grieving. (Outside in the sunshine’s injustice the silence and held each other and cried.) Some time some where there was a service, (they tell me) the church was full even on such short notice but it does not surprise me he was so very special everyone that knew him adored him. Young and old (I am told) were crying and then this (I think) was followed by many more days of crying. And then (the tears had need of replenishing) there were a precious few days where we clung desperately to numbness; we prayed for someone to pop the bubble; we waited to stop dreaming. Our own breath we would have given just for his returning but the providence of God is not for human understanding and this (I know) was followed by days and days of crying. I sit and read the Bible now (more so than before) the words of my Lord are the only thing that stay the unanswerable questions from forming. And when the wee hours of mourning have need of sleep, his father sings hymns of comfort to our Lord Jesus until He grants us slumber and each of these twenty four hour long days is dutifully followed by another. I try not to be alone, even though something in aloneness calls me (there is a wailing that has no want of comfort and I fear touching the pain that holds it.) When I can muster the will to do so I sift through the dead and drying flowers and today there was an hour (or so) when busy took my hands from twisting up the tissue and they say that time will better this and they say that it gets easier… Maybe (I sorely hope) they are right for even though my voice is leaving me my words once lost in pain are once again sorrowfully accompanying me and sometimes for a time my eyes do stop their weeping. But to tell you what comes next in this horrible pain they call the grieving process I cannot. This is as far as I have gotten… You are my sunshine my only sunshine you make me happy when skies are gray You’ll never know dear how much I love you Please don’t take my sunshine away Please don’t take my sunshine away. Ashen inquiry (January 2004) ________________________________________ The cremated ruins of my world lie now in an urn no use for me remains. Scattered bits of love and reminisce are retrieved from the tick-tocking that threatens to steal them and added daily but the bottomless urn overfills with nothing but despair. Lord take my words, no longer do they have meaning; take my ears, without his voice in it this earth is but a void; take my heart, it is ripped beyond repair; take my eyes for all the colors have melded; take the warmth of the sun for this coldness is impenetrable. Take everything I am or might ever be just please please give my baby back to me... In-dependence (January 2004) ________________________________________ too late are my struggles to comprehend your need to keep secret a point of escape for us your smile withheld your broad shoulders upheld as long as you were you then we could be we but the absolution of years of suffering proved to be past the point of your endurance you knew I am now sure how much we needed you but your heart was too big to tell us that our need was killing you that this codependence was not rational of us of me death has broken the dam the force sends me hurling downstream the present succumbs to the past, all the wrongs and the guilt thereof throwing up the poison that is drowning me is not an option, it rages within and without so many times freedom has been sought from this ghastly venom but I had not the fortitude to tolerate the hollow wake of its leaving and it appears I am denied the reprieve of willing this heart of mine to stop its beating at this point forgiveness seems mute- does dust turned ash have need of pleading of resolution? no, it is the living for which it is more than necessary the lack of is life threatening still I seek for my sobs to reach to before too late beyond the beyond please hear my anguished repentance though acceptance attempts to tell me that even if-nothing changes life does not go on after death there is only crying - tears rolling down cheeks past numb past caring without you the battle roars I am deafened by the wailing of the wounded my shield is burned to ashen and too late I perceive the principalities of darkness and how desperately they needed you gone my mind is close to leaving I feel the welcoming of the door the sweet deceit of non existence calls I can no longer fight this fight let me once and for all be rid of these bitters and let me be filled with only the sweet grace of You my Lord spent, held up only by Your love my words are all I have left please read deep into my heart precious Savior my whispered prayers are too close to stopping Lord lend me wings 2/7/04 ________________________________________ Its dark Lord, much too dark to see and from the feel of it, this valley shows no sign of upward sloping. The wailing of the grieving pierces my steadfastness. My words trembling, quaking within slow my steps to barely traipsing. Lord I ask you, lend me wings, but not to fly free from this lack of comprehension or for a respite from this pain, it is but a reprieve that I seek. Somehow I will find a peace in this trial that has no end in sight, my faith whispers reassurance that I will pass through, but if it please you Lord, I have need to fly my words higher, circling them nearer and nearer to You until I am able to locate a perch from which to secure a less obscure perspective. coffee colored memories 2/18/04 _______________________________________ Always a coffee drinker, I was not after the taste so much, but the much needed drug. My son, my baby boy that life turned into a man much too soon, took time off work one day, showing up with gift in hand - a cup of coffee - a cup of that really really good much too expensive for a momma working to make ends meet coffee. One taste and my mouth was in heaven… oh my… I was obviously thinking… coffee this good should be sinful; his eyes glowed with the pleasure of my delight. We grew up within a smile shortage and so to even the scales, God gifted him with a smile contagious and my Chris always found ways to spread it. Last year at twenty-nine, my baby left this world and for all the time that I am chained to this earth, November’s days will black as coffee be, but coffee will forever hold his smiling memory. raging sorrow 2/26/04 the swells rise higher than the wreckage where I seek shelter, sorrow steals my voice tearing the words from my mouth, sucking the sounds into silence deafness and desperation force me to cling to my pen but this time writing has not the power to purge, it only drips depth into the distress both arms wrapped tightly around the Rock I wait for a lull in the buffeting, I wait for the sorrow to stop raging Until the worst blows over 3/8/04 ________________________________________ Walking straight into this I tried, but the strength of the opponent shoves me to my knees. With feet out from under I stumble face first time and time again; no longer have I the strength or the willpower to restore myself. Compelled to recoil is not an option; there remain those that need me. One at a time I pray five fingers’ protective cover; He shelters me; I wait for the worst to blow over. No end in sight 3/24/04 ________________________________________ misnomered as life drizzles accompany this walk between each day’s begin and the close of each night in shadows of doubtful darkness starting with mourning's illumination and ending without you, time’s disloyalty marches on who can argue against it? 3/29/04 ________________________________________ tiptoeing the words they find different ways to hush an entrance and then they Pounce the finale is the same it never changes small and inconspicuous but surely uninvited they sit daily in the seat beside me over a million miles it has run through my head it never changes despite the radio on or off they only know one chorus they sing loudly and... it never changes like a thief least expected they steal in close and run off with my voice succinctly followed by tear drop after tear drop charge them with inhuman cruelty I should but the Judge is Death and the sentence never changes who can argue against it? Chris is dead Chris is dead, they said Let my feet follow 4/27/2004 ________________________________________ Sometimes in these dark days, more like a mirage than reality, the promise appears to be directly ahead. Just when I think that I might make it, out from under my feet drop. Try as I might the wrong road has taken my path again. The bridge is broken and from all appearances, has been for quite some time. The missing warning signs… ignorance, quite clearly the culprit. Once again I find myself under the rubble of where I have been. Lend me a downpour Lord to wash away the traces of this- my directional impairment. The storm begins to lessen; the thunder stops its rolling. I notice a simple sign pointing up. Upon closer inspection of this elevating indication, I realize that not every arrival is a finish. Let me look up, and please Lord let my feet follow… when it's all you have 5/12/2004 ________________________________________ the substance of things hoped for but not yet seen that’s what they say yes that’s what I’ve read and heard said more than once but on this dark sleepless night the definition echoes hollowly through my forgiven but unforgotten ghosts and my fingers insist I leave the comfort of my covers and query the possibility of a life living in pretense but when it’s all you have I tell my fingers and doubt decidedly drops our toe tips scorching into hell’s fire as opposed to the times of steadfast belief that assuredly inches us higher and when it’s all you have then so what I tell my fingers so what if the strand we hold onto cannot be seen when it’s all you have loosening one’s grip is not merely a lack of faith it is insanity surely there lives in us a hope for life ever after for if not I tell my fingers...then why hold on at all why not just let go but when it’s all you have you hold on less than halfhearted 5/27/2004 ________________________________________ inside forlorn and deep there waits a wail I give it not life for mine it seeks to take my voice has been stolen my utterances muted in silence it waits a lack of speech its covering for a slow strangulation if given the reigns its potential would quickly overrun me bridled or free roaming there waits a wail forlorn it seeks to take daily I pray the fight against it but honesty insists I admit that my defense is less than halfhearted asked and unanswered 6/14/2004 ________________________________________ when it came to pass that both her days and nights were stricken with grief whether heaven held all those lost to the living or not, liquid sorrow poured freely but then, doubt and guilt joined the same team worried their way midstream took hold and stuck half way down heaven holds those that are lost to the living- the question nags into her sleeping and tacks itself onto each wakeful moment gagging on what if’s, denial prevents the unbelief from reaching her heart the facts keep it from working its way back within reasoning’s reach faith holds on with strength to remain, but deep in the night death’s undeniable finality argues against it this "lack of" in her life, has now taken her voice along with the willingness to swallow what assurance needs to reiterate resolution would require the peace that surpasses human comprehension render reassurance to remove uncertainty’s existence, but the lack of audible answers from on High gives surety to doubt’s survival as long as heaven holds all those that are lost to the living she prays for the peace that comes when breathing ceases uneasy proximity 6/28/2004 ________________________________________ tonight I lie still without churning within the ceiling’s parallel plane is lowered to a reach out and touch distance the walls loom inward until movement is just next to restrictive inside this permeation of dark my heart’s beating overfills the remaining spaces the back of my throat is too near the front and lungs have economized this world’s trespasses have abbreviated survival’s requisite distance a scream is birthed in hollow resistance scarcely breathed only to be swallowed by the night stilled in this uneasy proximity I lie without sleep and without you To have and to hold 7/6/2004 ________________________________________ shrilly zinging at breakneck speeds to descend earthward in delight, only to turn about face upward so fast as to alarm even split second timing straight up winged flight dizzies Look at me mom look at me fly solo soars now more often than not, apron strings flap wildly barely he is tied by the need for mother’s appreciation so momma prayed that each day given not be the one when he would double dare the sun and until thirty six days into his twenty ninth year her prayers were answered now as ashen remains are safely gathered forever after to have and to hold, denial’s inward gaze embraces the picture of his tiny open mouth waiting to suckle love insists she lift her head, recall the beauty of him zinging across the sky and press into her memory for the echoes of Look at me mom, look at me fly Help me with words 8/2/2004 ________________________________________ Lord, I am expressionless; my thoughts, like the seashell’s roar, echo obscurity. Coherency wears a shroud within this void; cries of inequity for a life cut short, muted. The sun’s shine like mine has gone astray; morning wakes too weary to rise and lift the inky jacket of the night. Help me with words, Lord my thank you’s, gravely misplaced, are unable to verbalize their situate. Vocabulary’s axis has vanished; off kilter, my head is spinning. Missing you’s argue with intentions of continued existence. Forgiveness endeavors to enfold, but worry, an ill fitting garment, refuses consolation’s cover. Lord, take from me this upward ache please hold my sunshine for me, tell him I love him even more than I miss him. My Father help me with words; unvoiced, heavy laden, my prayers await Your release. I can't shut this door 8/16/2004 ________________________________________ being gifted with words and given glue, little by little, able to patch myself through, each passage secured behind me. but I cannot write through this doorway; I cannot write this one away. reflections diminish daily, overly taxed by mistakes that haunt memory's pleas. fondness trips over misgivings that lurk. hindsight’s perspective tangles with today’s concentration; regret’s heartbeat grows daily more deafening. words given or not this entryway remains. open, because it has need to; I must not forget. remembrance is love and remembrance is all that is left. here is now’s requisite, here is where I will stay. remorsefully it swings back and forth on memory oiled hinges, its lock mercilessly broken; God, all I can ask is give me strength. I can’t shut this door. Never ending stretches far and wide 9/2/2004 ________________________________________ There is death in this valley, the plague rests heavily on all who traverse and though surely my own path is afflicted this weight is not mine alone to shoulder. Grief mounts in front and behind the whole of which is pensively insurmountable. Not a get there and back sort of journey each footstep is counted for or against; this passage lasts from start to finish. Comfort, within these sharply pointed walls, is limited to prayers for brevity. Lord focus my footsteps; cushion this corridor with your presence. Teach me my Lord, to lean into your strength and lest the purpose that leads me turn circular in direction, put heaven ever before my eyes. and there he wasn't 9/7/2004 ________________________________________ there he was brightly shining the apple of my eye none other possessed the heart of his mother day by day smiling as he struggled through his pretend he was there and there he wasn’t and then that day he lay so still before us passed into a coldness where our warmth could not reach him there he was and there he wasn’t and now the smile of his eyes in a blink of love crumple guarded on five by seven real enough to be breathing but paper thin as if we dreamed him there he was and there he wasn’t how dare I 9/20/2004 ________________________________________ With envy I spy the spread of eagle’s wings circle as higher ever higher searches for the uplift that will ease homeward flight. But the eagle’s struggle is witnessed not by I; cold and heat are equally weathered; meals are won not given; life or death decisions daily clasped in talons tightly. So how dare I the eagle not to fly when anger holds God given wings at my sides, lifeless. And how dare I the eagle not to fly when the weight of my frown fastens my feet to the ground. Ensnared by my own failings, life’s struggles hidden by flesh and bone. I have faltered, forgotten how to fly; draw me my Lord and I will follow. With each gust of your breath beneath faith’s wings circle me ever higher to find the grace that will ease my homeward flight. what child is this (10-10-74...his birthday) ________________________________________ what child is this whose faith lives even so and is certainly counted towards goodness when trustworthy guidance prevails what child is this whose innocence of heart grants a world of madness and pain unjustified multiplicity; whose ire will not cover even one inequity what child is this whose questions receive no answers; whose heartbeat records a loss of a measure that cannot be considered even close to plausible and what child is this that is no more- my love my life my blood no longer can we touch for where you are and where I am are not the same what child is this whose birthday’s are ashen remains? **posted from the past with quiet acquiesce from 'jellybeans' ...sigh If *I* am to go forward, I think I must link my past and my present instead of trying to leave it behind....... |
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luminosity Senior Member
since 2005-11-18
Posts 813 |
In advance I would like to say this is posted in an attempt to heal...it is long and a lot to take in, I know the posting is for me, and its ok if you don't have the time to read it all and comment....just help me pray for healing and to take one step forward |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Luminosity, there is sooooooooooooo much I wanted to say to you as I read through this – some stanzas I read a couple of times, because the tears blurred the words, or the sobs prevented me for taking it in, and I needed every word and thought – yes there is so much I want to say, but I am emotionally exhausted from all the sobbing from the marrow of my bones, that I can’t right now. I will come in again tomorrow or soon, and I will withhold my tears so that I can say some (all would take hours) of what I want to say – for you, for him, for me - and so that I can pray for your healing and your next step forward. Hugs Owl |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
I knew when I started reading that I'd end up in tears and the tears were indeed quick and many. For through the words you gathered here, I remembered the many times your emails wore smiles because Chris had cheered your day. Time doesn't always give us understanding and some wounds will never heal. But poem by poem, question by question, I've watched you step closer and closer into God's embrace. I always thought of a spill of colors across the page when I saw the name jellybeans... but luminosity suits you even better... for you truly illuminate our minds and lighten our hearts. I will be back, my friend... for certain lines beg special attention. But for now, I can only say I love you and would give anything for you to have been spared this agonizing lesson. (((((HUGS))))) |
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JL Member Ascendant
since 2004-04-01
Posts 6128Texas, USA |
"I sit and read the Bible now (more so than before) the words of my Lord are the only thing that stay the unanswerable questions from forming. And when the wee hours of mourning have need of sleep, his father sings hymns of comfort to our Lord Jesus until He grants us slumber" Gosh, this is heart-wrenching. But such inner beauty expressed so vividly. ((((  ))))HUG JL  Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul,and with all your mind. Love your neighbor as yourself. Maranatha! |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
I'm so sorry. This is wonderful. Tragic. Wonderful. I am not a praying person, but I will keep you in my heart. ~~ "Government is not reason; it is not eloquent. It is force. Like fire, it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master." --George Washington ~~ |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
Your heart, dear Luminosity, has written these words of immeasurable pain and they touch me deeply and I want to reach out with a big hug. To experience the transition of a child is almost above human bearableness. You have kept your faith and yet the answer to the question "Why" fails to arrive to bring peace. The gift of your son's life is infinitely precious and perfect, even if you understandably feel that his staying with you was too short. May you find every day a sweet memory and express your gratitude and above all imagine your son alive in another dimension. Slowly you will transform the tremendous pain into serene surrendering to what is and into pure love and gratitude. Your love gives your son the wings to soar ... your undiminished sorrow affects his level of freedom. It is necessary that you let him go, otherwise it will be difficult for him to enjoy the bliss of his new existence. Write about your loving memories, but don't hold him back, there is a oneness that transcends time and space. Let the light of love into your heart and dry your tears in the awareness of the truth that we are children of eternity. Embrace life and your eyes will see again the colors and the beauty of it. Joining you in prayer for the healing of your heart. Love and hugs. Margherita |
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luminosity Senior Member
since 2005-11-18
Posts 813 |
I will be back to this tonight to reply more but am severely pressed for time@work but I have to say thank you with all of my heart |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
resolution would require the peace that surpasses human comprehension render reassurance to remove uncertainty’s existence, but the lack of audible answers from on High gives surety to doubt’s survival ---------- what child is this whose questions receive no answers; whose heartbeat records a loss of a measure that cannot be considered even close to plausible ----------- Lord, take from me this upward ache please hold my sunshine for me, tell him I love him even more than I miss him. My Father help me with words; unvoiced, heavy laden, my prayers await Your release. These poems poured from your heart and penned with tears are magnificent examples of both overwhelming grief and unshakable faith... as well as unending love. My friend?? I know you know this... but you don't go forward alone... no matter what you call yourself. *S* (and FYI... mugwort's still available. *G*) I love you, O&O!! |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Luminosity, I took a while to come back, as I said I would, but my life has been even busier than usual lately. I said I would withhold my tears so I could try to write just a few of my thoughts in reading this exquisite exposé of grief. Ruth (Suthern), a long time ago, wrote a series of poems on Grief. I would like to suggest that, if you have time, that you do a search for them and read them all. I know that it will bring some comfort to see how well she understands it. I do too, but don’t want to appear to be treating yours with anything less than it deserves, because mine is for my horse, my cat and my dog, but if you know me well enough, you will know how I bonded with them and still do. Your poetry aside from being a means to heal is soooooo beautiful – and that first one, being” A time to mourn Nov. 14, 03” I resonated so completely with, having an indigenous forest garden. And that second one, oh that second one “Four minus one leaves three (December 2004)” – well, I can’t stay the tears any more. This is grief as raw as it gets. All I can offer is hugs, hugs, hugs. And the third one, “Ashen inquiry (January 2004)”, I wanted to say I wish He could bring him back to you, but the thought entered my head, that where he is now, he is so safe and happy and showering his love on you as your Guardian Angel. The fourth one, “In-dependence (January 2004)” – such a clever poetic title – you see, God’s and your son’s loving messages reached your heart and they are loving and supporting you and guarding you and guiding you. The fifth one, “Lord lend me wings 2/7/04” I do believe He did. And how like your humble and generous heart to ask Him to lend the wings to you as opposed to give them to you permanently. The sixth one, “coffee colored memories 2/18/04” is soooooooooo beautiful and proclaims God’s and your son’s love for you with the blessing of not only the memories, but the physical more-than-a souvenir which you can imbibe, the way you imbibe their love. The seventh one, “raging sorrow 2/26/04” displaying that the pain is never over. Even after a lulling reprieve, it comes back without warning in a hurricane. The eighth one, “Until the worst blows over 3/8/04” asking for God’s protection and receiving it and that of your son, for you put the needs of those who need you before yours. And most of all having faith that He and your son will protect you until the worst blows over. The ninth one, “No end in sight 3/24/04” – oh, boy, do I know that feeling – they don’t know who say that time heals. The tenth one, “who can argue against it? 3/29/04” – I know that “no matter what I do or say, you are NOT COMING BACK” – hugs, hugs, hugs The eleventh one, “Let my feet follow 4/27/2004” – oh yes, that broken bridge, and then the miracle of that sign pointing up – I am so relieved and grateful that you see it. The twelfth one, “when it's all you have 5/12/2004” – that wavering of faith, that brings us back into faith and shows faith to be more real than ever we thought. The thirteenth one, “less than halfhearted 5/27/2004” – that swallowed, strangled wail, so hard to fight it. The fourteenth one, “asked and unanswered 6/14/2004” a large wavering of faith, but a return to it, as an otherwise drowning man holds on to a floating log which brings him to the river’s brink. The fifteenth one, “uneasy proximity 6/28/2004” the walls of the room and your throat close in on you, and the reality that he is not there doesn’t change. The sixteenth one, “To have and to hold 7/6/2004” the end of this one had me catapulting into sobs again. Too beautiful to write about. The seventeenth one, “To have and to hold 7/6/2004” – that second-to-last stanza had the sobs exploding – God, certainly gave you words, and He made sure that you captured them. The sobs they will bring will help your healing. The eighteenth one, “I can't shut this door 8/16/2004” – I can’t either – I talk to my horse and my cat and my dog lots every day, despite the perfect gift they gave me on New Year’s Eve of last year of a precious doggy and kitty – I would crumple without that bond. The bond keeps the door and the wounds open, but oh how I need that, and so, my dear Luminosity, I advise (I hope correctly) you to allow that door to stay open as long as you want it open. The nineteenth one, “Never ending stretches far and wide 9/2/2004” oh, Luminosity, what a beautiful, beautiful prayer. I think this is the pinnacle of this glorious memorial to your bond with your son. The twentieth one, “and there he wasn't 9/7/2004” when my horse went to Heaven (he went first) on 28 April 2002 at the age of 37½ human years and after I belonged to him for 20 years and knew him for 2 years before that, I was afraid to go to sleep because I was afraid to dream about him and then wake up to find he was no longer there. However, between God and Flicka they organised it perfectly. I have only had 7 dreams about him that I know of (one last week), but they have been a perfect blessing and gift from God and Flicka. What I am saying is that I understand that feeling of your son being there and not being there. The twenty-first one, “how dare I 9/20/2004” – this is soooooooooo beautiful and so generous and so humble. Your prayers should be immortalised for millions to access and pray – they are so perfect. I also have said so often that birds are not free, they have to keep looking over their shoulder for birds of prey. The twenty-second one, “what child is this (10-10-74...his birthday)” – his birthday is coming up soon. If you do nothing else, give him a deep, loving smile with an attempt for it to be a happy one. I think that will warm his heavenly heart more than anything else. How beautifully you link this poem with the birth of Christ, with whom he resides in perfect harmony. I understand so completely the need to link the future with the past, as I said above. I know it works for me. I believe it will work for you too. Thank you on behalf of your son (if I may be so intrusive) for this exquisite suite of poems, and to which I hope you will be adding whenever your heart and the words demand it. Owl |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
My dear girl, how much you, and Martie, and others, have in common. If I could, I would say, take my heart, it still beats. If only, for yours. Love, K |
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