losing a child

Son-light

Written by Susan Noyes Anderson on . Posted in Death and Grief Poems

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©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
image by Morteza Farkhondepour on Unsplash

I wear your absence like a hat, too tightly,
its brim subduing light relentlessly.
Son-light, grown brighter from celestial moorings,
and yet at times so difficult to see.

The hatband grips my forehead, boa-constricting,
impeding thought but squeezing feelings free.
They dip and dive, loose feathers from the headpiece,
and where they land is unsolved mystery.

I put it on the day that you were buried,
a covered head as emblem of my grief.
Two years have come and gone; and it weighs heavy,
cruel crown that bends my mind and begs relief.

You are not here; I know that you are not.
Although, sometimes, your spirit heeds my call.
I know your absence, and I know your presence.
In truth, I need not wear this hat at all.

One day, I’ll knock it off and let it fall.
(Or hang it gently on a bearing wall.)
∞§∞

If this poem resonates with you, you might find
Broken but Blessed meaningful as well.

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Susan Noyes Anderson

Susan Noyes Anderson is the author of At the End of Your Rope, There’s Hope, Deseret Book, ©1997; Awaken Your Spiritual Power: The Fairy Godmother Isn’t Coming!, Karisma Press, ©1999; and His Children (poetry only, photos are by Anita Schiller), Vantage Point Press, ©2003.

All material ©copyright of Susan Noyes Anderson

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