Grief Poem

The rose began to wither, in
her heart of woven gold,
the ocean melted in her eyes
for stories never told.

The window shone the morning bright,
not once did she look there,
the darkness had become her and
the rose, at last, was bare.

The bluebirds flew about the day,
the air cut like a knife,
and all the while a single rose
lay weeping bloody life.

For no one knew the rose had died
and left a heart of black,
except the girl with ocean eyes;
a train run off the track.

The gardens coloured in the world
so full of joyous spring,
and daisies spread along the path
as death came wandering.

The children danced in rosie rings
while men laughed at the sky,
yet, there she lay upon the bed,
a light about to die.

And as the days became the years
her rose grew back once more,
a rose of black and white, this time;
a life unlike before.

-Brooke Cutler, 2018

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

When You Became the Sun

I promised this virtual space of mine that I’d sprinkle some heart into it, and so grows this poem: planted from a memory, watered with love.

I felt this introduction necessary because I am well aware that grief is an almighty thing, and although this poem is—quite literally— shining with comfort and hope; it also speaks of loss. For those of you whose grief runs deep and new: I give you my blessing to stop reading here.

This poem was inspired by my beautiful Grandmother—a ray of pure sunshine in my life, and in the lives of all those who knew her. She passed away a few years ago, and this story took place on the day of her funeral.

That day, I wanted to believe that she was there with us.

So I believed.

And, every time I see the sun…I still believe.

WHEN YOU BECAME THE SUN

The day you grew your angel wings,

The sun shone warm and true,

While others saw a shining sun,

I looked, and I saw you.

The way the sun fell on my back;

A cape to still the grief,

A ring of gold around the clouds—

it filled me with relief.

The tears were wet upon our cheeks,

We thought you’d gone for good,

‘Take heart,’ the sun whispered to me,

‘You’ve all misunderstood.’

‘I’ve given her my shine, today,

It’s why she feels so near,

She’s telling you the pain has gone;

She knows that you can hear.’

Now every time I see the sun,

I hear your sweet hello,

‘Hello,’ I sing right back to you,

‘I’m glad you didn’t go.’