Tag Archives: mourning

Beyond words

An unspeakable tragedy has befallen a friend, and I nevertheless find myself groping helplessly for words to fling into the void.

Unspeakable

I am a box with the lid
removed, unable to hold
thought or feeling or will
for motion. Voices rattle and the wind
tears through me: funeral
and four-year-old do not belong
in the same sentence.

 

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Transcribed poetry: pebbles

I came across some passages from an old journal that seemed very apt today. As I write this, members of my extended family are gathered in another state to remember the life of one of my second cousins, who died this past week. I am unable to join them in body, but I offer this to my aunts, uncle, and cousins, and to all who mourn, wherever they are.

Pebbles

let this sorrow toss us
smooth, tumble off the edges
until we roll freely
in the surf, our clatter
the joyful sound of waves
receding

Life poetry: untitled

Someone dear to me died suddenly and unexpectedly yesterday. Words are not enough, but they are all I have at the moment.

today my heart wears
sackcloth and ashes
squats dumb upon a heap of dirt
too sad even to keen

in time the One who keeps unsleeping
watch over those who struggle
will turn this mourning
into dancing, but not today