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Funeral Wreaths
Grief Poems
Grief stalks adagio through your fragile life,
Saps your strength, invades every body cell,
Cleaves your heart in two with his butcher knife,
Abandons your soul in a living hell.
A vicious, scheming, well-paid assassin,
Precision guides him around your tortured mind.
An uninvited stranger within,
The proverb was wrong—it's hate that is blind.
For grief doesn't care how deeply he hurts
Or who he preys upon. Without pausing,
Your moods are cruelly ruled by an expert
Who knows your weaknesses, loves what he's causing.
And I don't understand why. When you're low,
Grief clings limpet-like and never lets go.
Copyright © 2002 Patricia Staples. All rights reserved.
on the floor beneath a table
or outside stretched
upon the ground.
But, well-intentioned friends
come with pleas for me
to see a counselor and
eat dinner at their homes.
Begging I do something,
anything,
not understanding I am tired
and need to be inactive.
I want to sink beneath the tables,
lie in the dirt, drink until morning,
and grieve until the loss evolves
slowly into a timid strength.
Alcohol that is not usually kept in the house
because I will impulsively drink every drop,
now whispers greetings for me to enter
those dangerous zones of long lost spirits.
And friends will call
and display horror, disgust
when asking, “Have you been drinking?”
Powerless, they sigh, “Oh no.”
Never understanding how that despair
and wine are so painfully short-lived,
nor how comforting it is to let my tears fall
while driving along that hard paved road.
About the author: Diane lives in rural Arkansas with her nine-year-old daughter and two dogs. She teaches writing at the University of Arkansas-Monticello. Diane has a memoir coming out from Red Hen Press. E-mail: diane@seark.net
Copyright © 2001 by Diane Payne. All rights reserved.
Can you hear me?
Can you hear my cries?
Now that you're gone,
From all of our lives.
We can't see you,
But I can feel you're near,
I can hear your voice,
A whisper in my ear.
I know you're inside me,
In my heart and my soul,
But I keep on crying,
It's beyond my control.
Promise me you'll stay,
Close by my side,
Promise me you won't go,
And through life be my guide.
Watch me and protect me,
Help me good times and bad,
Share in my joy,
Or comfort me when I'm sad
Keep me from harm,
Stay with me forever,
Love and care for me,
And leave my side never.
Copyright © 2002 Mike Morand. All rights reserved.
Where are You, Oh Lord?
Why have You hidden Your Face
From me?
Why can’t I feel You near?
Have You forsaken me,
To wallow in my pain?
Oh, how my heart suffers!
How my heart is breaking!
How I need You near!
How I need to see Your face,
Oh Lord!
Protect me,
From the storms that surround me!
Pour Your sweet Grace onto my soul!
For Your Grace, Oh Lord,
Is like a sweet salve, that heals a broken heart!
Have mercy upon me, Oh Lord,
For the wind thrashes all around me!
Calm the storms
That surround me!
For the waves of the sea roll around me
As if they were about to devour
My soul!
My heart is breaking, Oh Lord.
I need you near.
I feel as if I am sinking into the deepest sea.
I cry out:
“Jesus save me! For I am drowning in my sorrow!”
I hear Your voice, Oh Lord!
“Give me your hand, my Child,” You say.
I open my eyes and reach out to You!
You give me your hand,
And rescue me from the depths of the Sea’s of Sorrow.
You hold me tightly and encircle me about with the arms of Your Love.
You wipe away my tears,
As you say:
“It’s alright my Child.
I am here.
I will not leave you.
I will not forsake you.
But I will always be near you.
For you see, my Child,
My Father gave you to Me.
I live in your heart, dear one.
You belong to me.
No one can ever snatch you
Away from me.
I will heal your broken heart, dear one.
I am always here.
Just Come, my Child, and lean on me,
For I will give you rest.”
Copyright © 2001 by Jennifer Alvey. All rights reserved.
I knew you had to go away
it was your time you see
but I didn’t take the time to face
that you were leaving me.
You weren’t afraid of dying
for you knew what lay in store
in the blinking of an eye
or the closing of a door.
You shared with us a journey
that only you could see
and helped us understand God’s way
as it was meant to be.
Life had so restricted you
your spirit is now free
to go explore the universe
for all eternity.
About the author: In memory of my brother Billy—www.angelfire.com/nh/darkwolf
Copyright © 1992 by Judy Gagnon. All rights reserved.
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A year after her death, Ian and his 10-year-old daughter, Mattie, are still reeling from the loss of wife and mother, Kate, who succumbed after a long, drawn-out battle with cancer. On Ian’s birthday, he opens the letter Kate gave him right before she died… Shors’ fourth novel is a moving, emotional story about coping and coming to terms with loss. Anyone who has lost a loved one will relate to this poignant novel. --Hilary Hatton


