The Weekend
It hardly seems right,It doesn’t seem fairThat weekends just crush meWithout you here. The butcher chirps, “just one?”As I pick
Poetry became a refuge for my grief, a way to navigate the turbulent sea of emotions that engulfed me after my husband died. The words flowed as though they were carrying away fragments of my sorrow, giving shape to my pain and allowing me to process the depth of my loss. Each verse was like a whispered conversation with him, a way to keep his memory alive and honor the love we shared. Through poetry, I found solace, strength, and a means to express the inexpressible.
These expressions formed yet another component of my wellness journey; a way to heal my heart, to dislodge the lump in my throat, to literally “throw up” the painful content in my gut that took up residence there.
I’ve shared a few of my favorite poems here, and hope that you might find them comforting or, at the very least, help you to process your own pain through reading them.
It hardly seems right,It doesn’t seem fairThat weekends just crush meWithout you here. The butcher chirps, “just one?”As I pick
Waking up, I reach for his hand.Or maybe the warm spotWhen he rolled over to standTo make coffee. But like
Grief is like a hungry dogThat stares me in the face,Wanting to be fed, drooling all over the place. It
I need you here To help fold the sheets,Fill hummingbird feeders,Choose airline seats. I want you to helpChange the propane tank,Get
Terror-filled evenings,53 last year alone.The nights before the daysWhere we heard ourselves groan As we climbed into the car.Didn’t need
Yes, I’ll be there!I heard myself say.While deep in my gutWasn’t sure I could stay. I gather with friends,Pretend that