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.
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.
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.
The world has not gone dark,
and soft stars sparkle in the sky
on summer nights.
The dawn still lights.
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.
come and sit
beneath my blanket
as you did when
we shared space
In life, it was mine to give you care,
a role I would never begrudge at all…
from blissful days of downy hair,
(and me ever grateful that I was there)
through years that bore fruit in a wailing wall.
Every day a hundred ways to know you are gone.
Sometimes, I can’t help but wish that I could move on.
You left me with so many spaces, so many empty places,
left me with so many spaces, too many empty places.
A question in grief group last week gave me pause,
“Are you struggling more now, with Covid the cause?”
Answers varied, and yet most replies shared a thread:
We were already maxed-out on grieving our dead.
Losing children had broken us, brought us so low
that in truth, there was not that much further to go.