On Loss and Missing Pieces
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
The day Todd’s spirit flew,
mine rose to follow.
(Though only a few bits
got clean away.)
Poems about Death
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.
the gift of memory
©2019 Susan Noyes Anderson
today I am remembering
dinners at the olive garden
late-night feasts debriefing
your surgical rotation
you: enthusiastic, exhausted
me: attentive, admiring
A Million Words
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
A million words would
never bring you back.
I know, for I have said
them all and more.
I call you in my mind,
greet you in dreams,
pen you in poems that leak
from every pore.
They march out the front door,
sneak out the back one,
slip from windows on
bedsheets, deftly tied.
I do not slide the bolts
nor lock the shutters,
wary of stanzas
trapping me inside.
Still, I won’t send words
packing. They are mine.
Imperfect words, and yet
I hold them dear.
Ethereal as stars, they
have not raised you,
just hooked me on their power
to draw you near.
If this poem resonates with you, you may enjoy reading The Summons.
BACK TO LIST
The Summons
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
I am the one who knows
you are not present.
And yet, I come to stand
beside your grave.
Hungry for any service
I might render,
hoping to cross a bridge
I cannot pave.
My Heart Is a Google Drive
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
My heart is like a google drive. Streamed memories of you
float through the cloud in my less-sunny mind,
an often-viewed assortment of mixed ages and all stages,
good moods and lengthy broods, a motley find.
Love, Grief, and Grace
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
Erback art image
She’d waited two years for grief to end.
It wasn’t easy, but she was game.
“Two years should do it,” remarked a friend,
but Anne was still going round the bend
with nothing improving and much the same.
Love Remains
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
Sometimes, I think of your body,
sunk deep in the earth.
I look at your grave and imagine
the wood crate below.
I try not to wonder and yet
I cannot help but wonder
how much flesh is left, and
how long it will take that to go.
Two Years and Counting (the cost)
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
Erback Art
The world has not gone dark,
and soft stars sparkle in the sky
on summer nights.
The dawn still lights.