
Shades of Gray
©2022 Susan Noyes Anderson
image by John Salvino on Unsplash
Gray waves, pounding on the shore,
give shelter to this mother’s roar
of anguish. You are here no more.
Not one of us will pass through life without being touched by death and grieving. Initially, I had only a handful of poems about death and losing loved ones and did not feel a specific category on that topic was necessary for this website. Sadly, after losing my youngest son in 2018, that has changed. This new topic includes 40 poems about death and grieving, written as part of my own grieving process. I hope this category will make it easier for other bereaved parents to find and use them as part of their own healing. My poems about death are here for non-commercial purposes only. Please include full copyright information on every copy, emailing a request for permission before using. For internet use, a link back to this site is required. May peace and comfort be yours on this difficult path.
FINDING THE POEM YOU WANT: As you scroll through this section, simply read each snippet sample (usually the first four lines) to get a feel for the poem. When you find something you like, click “CONTINUE READING” to view the entire poem.
Gray waves, pounding on the shore,
give shelter to this mother’s roar
of anguish. You are here no more.
Small white crosses dot green grasses,
children who will play no more.
Bright-eyed boys and lively lasses,
robbed of all life held in store.
I chart my course in life with words
that rise up like the northern star
and lead me, yet my words fall short
of lifting me to where you are.
I know it’s true, of course––quite real;
yet somehow, I can’t help but feel
that nothing else is real if you are gone.
I’m well aware that you’re not here,
a little too aware, I fear;
and yet, neither are you quite gone,
despite the truth that you’ve passed on.
They didn’t dig you up, only my feelings,
stilled ones that slept with you under the ground.
Deep wounds that went unnoticed by their absence,
well-buried until anguish lost was found.
Time heals all wounds, so they say,
but do these words hold true?
If yes, such healing plays me false, son,
when it comes to you.
I like to think
he’s with us still,
a photo on the window sill,
a memory of days gone by,
a shadow in his sister’s eye.