Light the Lamps
©2018 Susan Noyes Anderson
image by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash
What do others see
who look at me
I am cracked pot
bird with broken wing
severed vine
unwilling shrine
Not one of us passes through life without being touched by death and grief. Initially, I had only a handful of poems dealing with that topic. I did not feel a specific category on death and grief was necessary for this website. Sadly, after the loss of a child (my youngest son) in 2018, that has changed. This new topic includes 40 poems on death and grief, written as part of my own grieving process. I hope this category helps other bereaved parents find and use them as part of their own healing from the loss of a child.
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.
(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.)
What do others see
who look at me
I am cracked pot
bird with broken wing
severed vine
unwilling shrine
The pair of you lit up our hearts,
shoulder-to-shoulder, full-grown men.
We saw in you the boys you were,
recalled the sweetness that had been.
I look ahead and dread the view,
a tunnel of days to get to you,
a tunnel of looming days until
I see your face and drink my fill
of all you are and all you mean,
a tunnel of days that stand between
me and the gift that once was mine –
to stand beside you, shade or shine.
I guess I always knew
he wasn’t mine to keep,
and yet I prayed he’d stick around
until I went to sleep.
The ocean pounding on the shore
Awakens with a crashing roar
Reminds me that you are no more
He left in his own
time, his chosen way.
I find in me
no spirit
to begrudge it.
Easter means more to those who know
the echo of a voice unheard,
the sound of silence in the air,
the loss that leaves no parting word.
Why must a mother mourn her son at Christmas?
Why must a father lose his daughter fair?
How will we bear the sorrow of this season,
when days ago their laughter filled the air?