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 over 90 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.)
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 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.
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.
image by Morteza Farkhondepour on UnsplashI 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.