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Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in the circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die.
I love that. Brings tears to my eyes. Thanks for sharing.
I dabble at it.
Here's one about loss I wrote in 2016:
WITHOUT REGRET
What I have lost.
Horses.
The wire-hair of mane and tail.
The leather smell of their tack.
My right breast.
A man: the innocent belief
That two souls could meld as one.
Smooth skin that snaps back.
A daughter: the years
That made who her she is.
The passion to pursue.
Euphoria.
My father. My mother.
Horses.
Their velvet muzzles.
The salt-foam of their sweat.
I am on the downside
of a goal I never noticed.
I passed it without recognition.
And, without regret, I know now;
Eventually it is all about loss.
end
I have been told it is sad. I hope not. It is about losses. Big ones and those that are smaller but burned in our memories. And truly, my losses are without regret. Only made of nostalgia and memory.
I have loved poetry since I was a child.
My Mother kept a garden
A garden of her heart
She planted all good things
That gave my life its start
She turned me towards the sunshine
And encouraged me to dream
Fostering and nurturing
The seeds of self esteem
And when the winds and rains came
She protected me enough
But not too much
She knew I would need
To stand up strong and tough
Her constant good example
Always taught me right from wrong
Markers for my pathway
To last my whole life long
I am my Mother’s garden
I am her legacy
And I hope today she feels the love
Reflected back from me
I love that you mentioned aunts. I adored my mom’s sister. She was a wonderful aunt.
Think of the things we used to do,
Think of the things we used to say,
Think of each happy yesterday.
Sometimes I sigh and sometimes I smile,
But I keep each olden, golden while
All to myself.
by Wilbur Dick Nesbit
Fiddler’s Green
by Theodore Goodridge Roberts
Never again shall we beat out to sea
In rain and mist and sleet like bitter tears,
And watch the harbour beacons fade a-lee,
And people all the sea-room with our fears.
Our toil is done. No more, no more do we
Square the slow yards and stagger on the sea.
No more for us the white and windless day
Undimmed, unshadowed, where the weed drifts by
And leaden fish pass, rolling, at their play,
And changeless suns glide up a changeless sky,
Our watch is done; and never more shall we
Whistle a wind across a fest’ring sea,
Cities we saw: white wall and glinting dome,
And palm-fringed islands gleaming on the blue.
To us more fair the kindly sights of home—
The climbing streets and windows shining true.
Our voyage is done, and never more shall we
Reef bucking topsails on a tossing sea.
Wonders we knew and beauty in far ports;
Laughter and peril round the swinging deep;
The wrath of God; the pomp of pagan courts …
The rocks sprang black! ... and we awoke from sleep!
Our task is done; and never more shall we
Square the slow yards and stagger on the sea.
Here are the hearts we love, the lips we know,
The hands of seafarers who came before.
The eyes that wept for us, a night ago,
Are laughing now that we shall part no more.
All care is past; and never more shall we
Make sail at daybreak for the grievous sea.
- David Harkins
You can shed tears that she is gone
Or you can smile because she lived
You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her
Or you can be full of the love that you shared
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what she would want, smile, open your eyes, love and go on
-Christina Rossetti (Victorian poet)
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little, but not for long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that once we shared
Miss me, but let me go
For this is a journey we all must take
And each must go alone
Its all part of the master plan
A step on the road to home
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go to the friends we know
Laugh at all the things we used to do
Miss me, but let me go
-Helen Lowrie
I’d like the memory of me to be a happy one
I’d like to leave an afterglow of smiles when life is done
I’d like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways
Of happy times and laughing times and bright and sunny days
I’d like the tears of those who grieve to dry before the sun
Of happy memories that I leave when life is done
To the living, I am gone
To the sorrowful, I will never return
To the angry, I was cheated
But to the happy, I am at peace
And to the faithful, I never left
I cannot speak, but I can listen
I cannot be seen, but I can be heard
So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea
As you look upon a flower, and admire its simplicity
Remember me
Remember me in your heart,
Your thoughts and your memories,
Of the times we loved,
The times we cried,
The times we fought,
The times we laughed,
For if you always think of me, I will never have gone
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing
He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He refreshes my soul,
He guides me along the right path, for his name’s sake
Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me, in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely your goodness of love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
- Sarah McLachlain wrote this song about the death of the musician Jonathan Melvoin of a heroin overdose.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There’s always some reason
To not feel good enough
And it’s hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh a beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
Let me be empty
Oh and weightless and maybe
I’ll find some peace tonight
In the arms of an angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
So tired of the straight line
And everywhere you turn
There’s vultures and thieves at your back
And the storm keeps on twisting
You keep on building the lies
Then you make up for all that you lack
It don’t make no difference
Escaping one last time
Its easier to believe in this sweet madness
Oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees
In the arms of the angel
Fly away from here
From this dark cold hotel room
And the endlessness you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
You’re in the arms of the angel
May you find some comfort here
I thought it would be hardest
when your breathing stopped.
But when the kind young woman
wheeled you away,
I was simply undone.
………………….
I glance at the clock
every night around eight—
time for evening pills,
even though you’re no longer here
to swallow them.
…………………
a haiku
shoulders turned inward,
a weighted mantle of pain
slowly starts to lift
……………….
Most nights now I wake up
every hour or two—
not anxious or afraid,
perhaps to see
if you still need me.
Thank you so much for sharing this very personal poem with us. It’s beautiful!
Did you read the poem that Alva wrote earlier on the thread? It’s lovely!
Funkygrandma was the first to respond to this post. She wrote something beautiful about her husband as well.
I would love to read all poems, songs, quotes, prayers or thoughts on your personal journey.
Losing a parent is hard. Losing a spouse or mate is devastating.
Losing any member of our family is hard. Losing a child is almost unbearable.
Losing good friends, coworkers, neighbors, etc. is difficult too.
Somehow, we move on. They aren’t forgotten. They live in our hearts forever.
She’s the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street.
She’s the smell of certain foods you remember, flowers you pick, the fragrance of life itself.
She’s the cool hand on your brow when you’re not feeling well.
She’s your breath in the air on a cold winter’s day.
She’s the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep. She’s the colors of the rainbow.
She is Christmas morning.
Your mother lives inside your laughter.
She’s the place you come from, your first home.
She’s the map you follow with every step you take.
She’s your first love, your first friend, even your first enemy.
But nothing on Earth can separate you.
Not time.
Not space.
Not even death.
A light went out on Earth for me,
The day we said goodbye
And on that day a star was born,
The brightest in the sky
Reaching through the darkness
With rays of purist white
Lighting up the heavens
As it once lit up my life
With beams of love to heal
The broken heart you left behind
Where always in my memory
Your lovely star will shine
Some have already been mentioned but here are a few.
Crying is a way your eyes speak when your mouth can't explain how broken your heart is.
Grief never ends
But it changes,
It's a passage not a place to stay
Grief is not a sign of weakness
nor a lack of faith
It is the price of love.
From a movie, 3 Weddings and a Funeral
Funeral Blues
W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin.
Let the mourners come.
Let the aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message:
"He is dead"!
Put crepe bows around the white necks
of the public doves.
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I though that love would last forever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Those are fabulous!