I like to write sad poems.
This one is about my sister and my dad. I miss them both terribly, but only when I let myself open that box. Which lately is not often enough. Life has a way of getting so busy. Too busy for memories? Sometimes…
In my heart, I keep a box.
It’s buried deep and locked up tight.
Inside are memories I can’t forget,
of times I make myself not remember.
Sometimes I think I’m ready, so I open the box.
The memories flood and overwhelm.
My eyes spill over and my heart aches,
both with happiness and with longing.
It’s still too hard, so I push it all back.
Into the box, every tiny last strand.
I tuck the memories in gently,
and lock it up tight,
until another day…
when I think the time is right.
This one is about my Dad, several months after his death. I missed him so unbelievably much. I couldn’t help but think of all the ways I felt broken without him here.
MY JAGGED ROCK
Jagged and heavy,
it sits in the pit of my stomach.
A reminder of a loss.
A physical pain, for a pain that is not physical.
Its sharp edges cut me,
but mostly now it’s just heavy.
One day I know it will not feel so heavy.
I will get stronger.
Or it will erode
and wear down with time.
I need more time.
Its edges will dull and smooth,
getting smaller…But never gone.
It’s much to big to ever go completely away.
And maybe…I don’t want it to be gone.
Maybe I like the pain.
Maybe I carry it with me willingly…
and even protect it.
I hold it close, so that no one can see.
Only I know.
…I still feel it.
Yes. I carry it willingly.
MY jagged rock.
It’s the reminder
of a love I miss.
Maybe these aren’t exactly poems. Perhaps I should have paid more attention in language arts. Either way, I can read this now and remember that gut wrenching pain. And for that, I’m glad I did try to write my feelings because just as I predicted, time did heal. I knew it would. At least the sharp cutting pain has dulled to the ache of an old injury. Sometimes I do miss my jagged rock. I miss the piercing constant reminder. I know that sounds weird, but my sister has been gone from this earth for over almost 28 years…and my dad now has been gone for over 4…And I just keep on living. It’s bittersweet to move on.
But move on I must. And honoring the love that they had for me requires me to do so. And although I do get sad and miss them when I allow those vivid memories to wrap around me, especially of my Dad, I also feel so much gratitude and joy. I was loved. So my sad poems are really happy poems. They are poems of big love that never dies or fades away…even when life gets busy and living takes the place of tears.
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