Another school day
filled with laughter
and learning
shattered by the
sound of gunshots
Screams and cries for
help followed by silence
Children hiding with
their teachers, frightened
Training put into action
Training that should not
be necessary for actions
that should never occur
When will we decide enough is enough?
When will we choose love, instead of hate?
When will we weep instead of foolishly arguing?
Mourning innocent lives
left lying on the floor
of the very place they
should have been safe
I wrote the first version of this poem in 2022. I’m sad to say I’ve rewritten it and reshared it too many times since then.
Tag: grief
Until it was Time
Nobody told me
how much I would miss you
Maybe they assumed I knew
Common sense and all
But common sense is not
the same as preparation
And missing you is something
I couldn’t prepare for anyway
I suppose they were
trying to do me a favor
A way to enjoy time with
no thoughts of finality
If I even believe in time
Truth is, I already knew
No warning needed
I knew, just kept the
knowing buried deep
Buried deep
until it was time
to remember both
the happy and the sad
Simply Sunday
Will I ever recognize its approach?
The way it works itself into
a regular day, so slowly.
By the time it was revealed,
The day had almost disappeared.
But it was not wasted.
True, it held an uncertain sadness.
Until I realized I was missing you.
Of course, grief would visit
the day before Father’s Day.
But sweet memories also arrived.
And grief quietly took its seat.
Allowing its counterpart, always
nearby, to offer comfort, hope, and joy.
Happy Father’s Day, Dads! Your job is more important than you know. I hope you feel celebrated and loved today!
Listening to Johnny Cash
Layering itself within the everyday,
grief flows between memory and
emotion through eyes, ears, heart-
Leaving me with new reasons to miss you.
Johnny Cash spinning on your
granddaughter’s turntable.
We listened to Johnny Cash
on a long drive in my car.
Your grandson wearing
one of your straw hats.
I found a picture of you
wearing said hat, smiling.
My sweet granddaughter
and her blue sky eyes.
You would have been
so excited to meet her.
Your voice in my head, fading.
How’s my little girl?
Grief flows between memory and emotion through eyes, ears, heart-
Leaving me grateful, yet
wishing you were still here.
Mom and I had a recent conversation about how we sometimes struggle to talk about the ones we miss. I get it. There’s a fear of causing tears, sadness, and increasing grief. But I’m finding that talking about my dad, remembering good times, brings peace. Yes, it may also bring tears, but tears have the power to restore. ❤️
Let Go of the Rope
I am standing in a field
holding tight to the
middle of a rope
A foolish attempt to
bring balance in an
unexpected tug-of-war
On my right, grief
grips the cord
with all its might
On my left, love
holds firm
Always fierce
Suddenly, I understand-
Neither one can let go
They are forever bound
Now I’m faced with a choice-
Allow the tug-of-war
to continue within me
or let go of the rope
Reach for images,
past and present,
patiently waiting in
the back of my mind
Watch, as grief and love
fall into each other,
simultaneously releasing
laughter and tears
I am lying in a field
having let go
of the rope-
Exhausted, grateful, content
A Shared Lament
Like unwanted vines
choking a rose bush, it
blocks the sun and rain
until delicate buds,
nearly ready to bloom
Whither and fade-
Their true colors
never allowed to
grace the garden
I would miss your
beautiful colors
even more than
those of the roses
So, let’s face our
grief together, and
let tears fall like a steady
rain, reviving wilted buds
And with open arms
invite others who are
hurting to join us until
we are wholly comforted
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5: 4
Simply Sunday
Revisiting a poem from 2020. The list of names, already too long, continues to grow. No title this time.
His child, spouse,
sibling, parent-
Helpless, watching
as he lies on the ground
Terrified, he struggles
begging for breath-
A knee pressed
down on his neck
Calling out
Mama!
His cries for mercy
ignored-then silenced
A family left
grieving-
Another name
added to a list
Life, liberty, and
the pursuit
of happiness
denied, destroyed
A weeping world
refuses to look away
A weeping world
will not be silenced
“For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.””
Galatians 5:14
Simply Sunday
The reasons are many,
both logical and emotional.
Reasons we hesitate to speak
the names of those we miss.
Concern about how
Others may respond, or
how we ourselves may react.
Yes, emotions can be unpredictable,
But it is imperative to remember.
It reminds us of the immense
capacity of our hearts
to hold love along with grief.
So, go ahead, speak their
names. Let the sound of
Memories wash over you.
Simply Sunday
Always a welcome guest
Your brightness,
not to be ignored
As you gently alight
on the fence
I catch my breath
You seem to smile as
Snowflakes land on
your scarlet feathers-
A perfect contrast
Perhaps that is why
You so often shake
me out of my grief
Taken back by your beauty,
I sweetly reminisce
And for just a moment,
See the faces of those I miss
Counterintuitive
Not a cloud in the sky.
Yet, a heavy haze
held the morning.
Unhelpful. Especially when
my brain also feels foggy.
If only I were still sleeping.
However, sleep is not
a likely solution.
There is rarely a
single solution anyway.
Some days are just like this.
My heart is grateful for
family and friends.
My head is unsure how
to process the melancholy.
Seems counterintuitive
to wish for a cloud.
But if a fluffy cloud means
A lifted haze
A bluer sky
A spark of imagination
Then I will keep searching.
Looking out every time
I pass a window.
