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Category Archives: grief

Stuck

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She spoke in scars

Bitterness of broken heart

Sailing with the undertows

Salty sting of ocean tears

Refreshing her pain

There was safety there

Reeling to the beat of

“It’s- not- my- fault”

Making peace with the fog

So she didn’t have to see

 

Sunlight beckoned but

She reveled in the rain clouds

Trading rainbows for permafrost

Frozen, hard fast in the loss

In time, she’d rewind in the wind

Dust off the grudge and wrath

Wipe the mist from the mirror

To see more than lines on her face

More than the misery of this place

Cue the music

And dance wildly to the light

 

 

I am hosting Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub. We are writing to “Life Lessons”. “What is one thing (or more) that you have learned that you feel could change another life? Well at least improve it.” Please share with us in a poem. There is still time to join in. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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the murmur of an ice cold heart

beats to the rhythm of decay

dehydrated dreams die

withered in February’s wind

tears will never nourish

 

 

 

For Frank Hubeny’s “Meeting the Bar” prompt. The theme is brevity, specifically to write a poem with no more than 5 lines.  There’s still time to join in over at dVerse Poets Pub.

Image credit: pixabay.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

For Viv

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A tear surprised my face today
as lavender and sweet bouquets
swayed gently to the clarinet

A tear surprised my face today
for all you penned upon a page
when petals drop before they fade

A tear surprised my face today
though we had never met

 

In memory of Viv Blake, a beautiful lady and talented poet who graced the dVerse community as well as others.  She will surely be missed by many who loved her and admired her.  We will continue to be blessed by her words and spirit.

Rest in peace and sunshine, Viv.

 

My Brother

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Driving east from our hometown

I remember a sunset

Blazing behind me

Reds I’d never known

Tangerines twisted

In tones of blue silk

Ivory smiles, infectious

Masquerading as cirrus clouds

I think it was you, my brother

I think it was you

              ~

Miles were meaningless

Moments embedded in golden hues

Purple streams extended

Like arms that had my back

I never lost sight of your afterglow

Love as large as the sun

Fades not in distance

Or in hearts

I think it was you, my brother

I think it was you

Grace encouraged us to write about brothers/brotherhood for dVerse poetics.  I lost my only brother suddenly when he was 36.  This was written as I recalled the most amazing sunset, traveling home one day from the small town I grew up in. It just happened to be his birthday.


50 Things I’ve Learned in 50 Years…#26

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“Being with someone as they pass is as phenomenal as witnessing a birth. It is a privilege to be present.”

26 post

It started out as an ordinary day in November.

I was 22, enjoying my first “real” job since graduating from college. However, this day turned out to be life changing. Today I would lose my dad.

As I arrived at work, I was immediately told that I needed to call my aunt right away. It was about an hour’s drive to get to the hospital in my hometown. This was a blur, emotionally and literally as I urged my boyfriend to drive faster.

ICU was like some kind of dreamworld, some place that shouldn’t be…because the reality was too hard to accept. I remember white…sheets, walls, floors, nurse’s uniforms, the grey tone of my father’s face almost blending in. There were heart monitors, tubes, oxygen masks…things I had never seen. My 19 year old brother was standing beside the bed, trying hard to control his tears. I remember holding him up as his knees started to buckle. My 16 year old sister had an 8 hour trip by train. She would not make it in time. I remember watching the jagged waves on the heart monitor…every beep was another second of denial. As long as his heart was beating, this nightmare had not begun.

I watched him struggle to breathe. I saw the fear in his eyes. I felt the tiniest possibility of hope vanish when a nurse politely explained to us exactly how a person dies when there is no heart muscle left to keep them alive. She told us how the oxygen mask would make him “comfortable” in the end.

A few minutes before my father died, he suddenly attempted to rise to a sitting position. There was no logic to this, given the amount of strength he had left. It was frightening, but amazing at the same time. Looking straight ahead with eyes wide open, he pointed at something. He was unable to speak, but he was trying to communicate. He saw something. He knew something. He was entering a new realm, a journey that we were no longer a part of.

As devastating as this was, I felt so fortunate that I was there. I cannot imagine how disappointing it would be to take your last breaths on this earth without someone you love by your side. Death is not just about loss. Beyond the heartache, there is something more to this moment.

We celebrate the beginning of life.

We need to honor the end of it.

~

Pieces of the Rainbow

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shawls

Sitting in her favourite chair
Her tiny dog on her lap
Persistent stitch and steady hands
She makes masterpieces
Together, they would stretch
Across skies of sadness
Oceans of tears
Mountains of despair
Beautiful colours of comfort
Filling empty hearts
Painful situations
Unquestioned

Because this is about
Unconditional love
This is about a lady whose compassion
Reaches for miles
To grateful smiles that
She may never see
Places she may never be
People she may never know
But they will know of her
As they wrap a piece of the rainbow
Around their tired shoulders
They will know her love

The Poppy

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poppy

 

Today in Canada, we remember those who risked their lives and lost their lives at war. A few weeks before “Remembrance Day”, coinciding with the U.S. “Veterans Day” , we donate spare change (or hopefully more) to purchase a bright red, felt- like poppy. These are worn to signify that we have not forgotten the sacrifices of those who have served in the military.

The custom of wearing poppies evolved from the  poem, “In Flanders Fields” by John McCrae. The poem which was published after his death, was recited every year in classrooms across Canada as we approached Nov.11th. Kindergarten crafts were all about poppies.

Who was John McCrae?

He was a Canadian poet. He was also a soldier during WW I.

Apparently, John McCrae was moved by the sight of a million poppies growing on the battlefields and cemeteries of Ypres, Belgium during the First World War. His words were penned as he sat in the back of an ambulance just north of Ypres, where he had recently buried his friend, Lieutenant Alex Helmer.

I have come to realize that some Americans are not familiar with this famous war poem or the symbolism of the poppy. Ironically, the idea of adorning poppies on our lapels originated from an American woman. Inspired by John McCrae’s poem, Moina Michael wore a silk poppy to symbolize remembrance of those who served in WW I.  She advocated the idea for two years in hopes of the poppy becoming a national commemorative symbol. Her efforts were not in vain and the poppy is worn proudly in many countries around the world.

The last surviving WW I veteran died in 2012. Her name was Florence Green from the U.K.

Many of our WW II veterans are still with us.

Today and always, let us honour their strength, survival and sacrifices.

 

 

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

by John McCrae, May 1915

 

 

 

Related Articles:  

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_McCrae

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/history/the-history-of-the-remembrance-poppy-9852348.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_last_surviving_World_War_I_veterans_by_country

 

Beautiful Soul

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April 13 081

 

I watched the leaders of my country
Dodge bullets today
Literally, dodge bullets
That was the news
And that’s all it is
Simple violence
Point and shoot
Any coward can do it
But the story is not the news
The story is about a boy
A son, who became a man
A soldier
Corporal Nathan Cirillo
A father, an animal lover
A friend to many
Only 24 years old
The story is about
Hearts ripping, tears flowing
Making sense of inhumanity
Sorrow deeper
Than can be imagined
No, I did not know him
It doesn’t matter
I am a mother
And he was like no other
How do I know?
Just look in his eyes
That is the gift
We have been given
Beautiful soul
One heart in different bodies
One life in different times
One love in different worlds
We are different
Thank God
We are all different

 

 

In response to poetics at dVerse…but mostly in response to my aching heart.

 http://news.nationalpost.com/2014/10/22/soldier-shot-outside-of-parliament-at-national-war-memorial-active-shooter-believed-to-be-on-the-loose/

Logic of Light

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logic of light

 

She was given the night

To ponder her pain

Soak in the rain

Feel the blade in her back

Evil, she called it

But why would the sun

Rise to the occasion

If there wasn’t one?

~

http://dversepoets.com/2014/09/09/poetics-bringing-light-to-darkness/

Dear Robin Williams

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Thank you for your gifts

Robin_Williams_2011a_(2)Your shenanigans, charades

The epitome of a smile

Bigger than anyone’s

A brilliant mind

You so generously shared

With boundless energy

To make one thing happen

Laughter

We’re not laughing now

Conceiving your pain

Repeating your name

Retracing your fame

Brilliant minds are not safe

From the storm

Or the rain

We will take this joy

You so kindly gave us

Carry gently, your heart

And dance

In the sparkles of your eyes

 

 ~

“But only in their dreams can men be truly free. ‘Twas always thus, and always thus will be.”
~Robin Williams as John Keaton- ‘Dead Poets Society’~

Image: Wikipedia

Cardio

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bleeding hearts

 

My heart still beats
Though stitched and sewn with
Threads of hope, frayed
Robotically repaired
In rhythmic mode
Patched up places
Where entry wounds gaping
Took hold of every breath

My heart still beats
Tick tock, tock ticking
Pulse belongs to them
Lovingly tended
Far from mended
But they are the blood
The oxygen saving
My life, my soul, my love

~dedicated to my father and my brother~

 

Today at dVerse Poet’s Pub, Marina Sofia asked us to “consider what does it take to shatter your world and how do you make it whole again”.

http://dversepoets.com/

 

 

 

From the Shadows

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I had no wings

Until I soared high

Over the desert

Faith under feathers

Suspended above

Corroding platforms

Of jagged words

Spellbound by what was

And what could be

             ~

I had no voice

Until the silence screamed

Above the sound

Of my own heartbeat

Exploding

Into a million

Tiny fragments

Of fear, recycled

               ~

I had no hope

Until it was buried

In early graves

Defective dreams

Petrified particles

Of all that I knew

For in this soil, this pain

Sifted and sorted,

I grew

 

In dVerse Poet’s Pub, MarinaSofia inspired us to answer questions of our own identity.

1) Who are you and whom do you love?

2) What else are you, that no one has seen before?

3) Describe a morning you woke without fear.

4) What lingers when all is said and done?

 I responded to #3

Embers

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You are only gone

If I forget you

That could never happen

My brother, my friend

For memories, like oxygen

Breathe life again

Inhaling your laughter

Exhaling joy

You are only gone

If I let you go

But I don’t have to

Because flashbacks kindle the fire

Igniting hope

Warming my heart

And if my heart is warm

Then you are too.

~

In memory of my brother

who can still make me smile today.

~Oct. 28, 2000~

50 Things I’ve Learned in 50 Years…..#10

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#10. “In an instant, your world can be turned upside down. The people you take for granted can disappear in the blink of an eye. Tomorrow is only a plan. This moment is all you have.”

It was October of 2000. It was a Saturday morning when the phone rang, waking me up from a deep slumber. As one who usually dreaded the worst, I assumed this 7 a.m phone call meant something was wrong. Perhaps my grandmother was ill but in the back of my mind, I thought “calm down, it’s probably just a wrong number”. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to hear.  It would have been the furthest idea from my mind. It was unthinkable.

When my crying mother said my brother was “gone”, I asked where he went. He was single. He could go wherever he wanted. He had no significant ties. I thought…. where in the world could he have gone that would upset my mom so much? What was she talking about?

Confused and half asleep I asked her, “Where did he go?”

“He’s dead”, she muttered  with whatever strength she could dig up from……somewhere. My mother had waited hours to call me. She just couldn’t pick up the phone.

He was 36 years old. He was my baby brother by three years.

He was my only brother.

I fell to the floor. I remember so clearly the sound that came out of my mouth. I remember pacing back and forth and screaming “no” over and over. I am sure at that moment, I was insane. I remember crawling up the stairs, waking up my ex husband. I was not me, but just an empty, robotic being, mumbling, sobbing, shaking, running around the room……lost in denial.

I cannot understand to this day how I drove an hour and a half by myself to get there. My two sons were still asleep (or were they?) and their dad would stay there with them. I didn’t want them to know anything about their uncle yet…because it couldn’t be true anyways. That was the plan I managed to somehow articulate before running out the door to my car. I was going to see him because that was the only way I could prove that this wasn’t happening.

The next time I saw my brother, it was Halloween night and he was in a casket.

DEATH is sneaky. Don’t ever trust it. It hides away mysteriously and then leaps out of nowhere to blindside you into oblivion.
LIFE is precious. Don’t ever take it for granted. It is amazing, breathing and beautiful and it never hides. Take everything it has to offer.

Don’t wait until the phone rings or there is a knock on the door. Live your life to the fullest.
Every minute unfolding in front of you is amazing.

~ In memory of my brother, his laughter, his incredible smile , his song , his silly dance and most of all, his loving heart.~