POEMS OF THE WEEK : On Grief ~ from Sumana, Annell, and Rosemary

This week, my friends, I thought for a little change of pace, since summer is so busy, we might simply enjoy three poems that knocked my socks off in the past few weeks, written by Sumana ( Vision ),  Annell  (Some Things I Think About), and Rosemary, (The Passionate Crone).  Each of these poets is moving through grief and loss, with such grace, faith and courage. Writing their journey, they inspire.

Turn on the bubble sound track, and take a pause that refreshes, each poem a single drop of peace, falling into the stillest of ponds. 



     
   

The first poem, Sumana's "Trust", really touched my heart with its message of unshakable faith, even after the recent devastating loss of her beloved daughter. 

Trust

I trust my sun who will always rise
I trust my stars who won't forget to light
I trust my Ganga* who will ever purify
and my Himalayas who will pull me to His height

My soul has taken bath in fire yet not burnt
My soul has withstood fear-storm undaunted
Waves of doubt could never blow out Thy name
The trust in Thou glows in my soul like a flame

Be my storm, fire, deluge whatever Thou Will
With faith, trust, love let my heart be filled

*Ganga is the Ganges

Sherry: Faith doesn't come any stronger than that. Such an uplifting and inspiring poem! Thank you, Sumana. Your courage humbles me.

Annell's "A Piece of Yarn", has such a gentle sorrowing beauty to it. Annell is moving through the one year anniversary of her beautiful son Jim's passing last June. Yet this poem offers a hopefulness at its closing, as the poet weaves the words, dries her tears and follows the bread crumb path home.

A Piece of Yarn

i opened the door      startled a pair of fly catchers      they flew in unison

a perfect circle... then another           before they flew skyward

i ride my weary steed across rough ground             we travel south

the sun already high in the sky... sunrise /sunset how quickly go the days...

these words follow me                     reminding me of their truth

is this the little boy at play      i don't remember growing older       when did you

it seems only yesterday you were small                    then... you went away

another summer/fall/winter/spring                    happiness & tears

one season following another          i did not think i could bear

 yet loneliness & sorrow stand          they are my companions

 i am learning to accept them...

sunrise/sunset                                                 swiftly fly the years

blue pavilions rise on the horizon...                     how to keep all that is past

is it like a piece of yarn          wound on a spool                  to be unwound later

to read the words written there                          weave into the fabric that is my life

dry the tears of yesterday...                      follow the scattered bread crumbs home

Sherry: I am so moved by "loneliness and sorrow stand / they are my companions." Sigh.  This is the way of life, as we move through our losses, incorporate them within, and keep on walking.  Rosemary's wonderful poem, "At The Turning Point",  picks up the journey at the two-year mark, and  says something about the adjustment to her new reality, two years after her beloved husband Andrew's passing.  Her poem really impressed me with how she is learning to keep moving forward, with love, a little farther along the highway of grief.

At The Turning Point

At the turning point

I greeted old friends

not seen for many months,

and said goodbye to a new friend

going for months away.

At the turning point

I danced and sang

with others in a colourful circle,

then moved to a chair at the edge

when they gathered speed.

At the turning point
I delivered a talk, hiding nerves.
I had to speak loud, and project
over an exuberant infant’s joyous whoops.
‘Such command!’ they praised. ‘Such a voice!’

I drove back home with new ease
around the scary bends
of the darkening road —
handling the car with confidence
at each turning point.

My angel sat beside me

only a little while.

‘You can do this now,’ he said.

I agreed, and acknowledged

the turning-point.

In the Solstice fire I burned
old fears, old guilts, old regrets —
leaving a space for new light
to begin and grow in me, here
at the turning point.

Sherry: I can see him, your angel: "You can do this, now." Somehow we grow our way through these huge changes in our lives.  Bravo, my friend. You are brave. 

Between the soothing bubbles and these three beautiful offerings, I hope your visit here has been a peaceful and inspiring  few moments in your busy summer day. Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!