If I let it be,
grief is a chair
that supports me
when I crumple.
It requires
nothing of me
except that I give it
all my weight.
Limp, I sink in,
and it doesn’t ask me
to try to pretend
I could rise.
It lets me wet leaf.
It lets me empty room.
It lets me vast sky of gray.
It holds me.
I lean in.
I nothing for a time.
I slow ache.
And grief says
yes to me.
*
oh friends, my father took his last breath this morning just after 5 a.m. he was loving and full of gratitude and positive and warm till the end. I thank you for all the kind messages I have received–if I do not write you back, please know that I do read every message and thank you by name. I am so grateful for your support. I know the poems have been a fairly relentless chapter of grief–and love. And love. I have never been more in love with the world, even now, especially now.
Dear Rosemerry, there are really no words to say of such immense loss…
When my dearest friend walked on, followed months later by my sweetest little buddy, my grandson, I felt as if the well of grief was deeper than I could ever imagine rising from…this poem brought me such comfort…
to know that we share this holy pain, this deepest of aches, with every human who has ever lived and loved through timeless time…I hold you with love, with care, with sorrow…
Tis a Fearful Thing
‘Tis a fearful thing
to love what death can touch.
A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be –
to be,
And oh, to lose.
A thing for fools, this,
And a holy thing,
a holy thing
to love.
For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.
To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death has touched.”
― Judah Halevi
Paraphrasing Joi Sharp: Grief says,Yes, to you as you are.
I delighted in your use of denominal verb phrases: wet leaf, empty room, vast sky of gray(!), slow ache.
English teachering, again: I’d make the first two lines a single one: “I let grief be a chair”. More immediate, tightens and flows with the rest of the poem.
You are so fiercely loved, Rosemerry. Methinks, however, the Universe needs to find less grievous ways of demonstrating this. “More than enough, already!”
Billions of bouquets of kiitos, for how fecundly you Rosemerry my life. How you fecundly Rosemerry each and every one of our lives.
I have never been verb phrased before!!! Thank you! And thanks for the idea about the first line–I am so grateful for your eye.
Blessings of transition to your father, to you, to your family. The love shines through your every word, the wonder everywhere.
Yes, thank you for affirming so much love–so much wonder.
Thank you, Heidi, for the blessings, thank you.
Sending love and gratitude for you and your work.
Such hard times, but your grace is generous.
Thank you, Suez, thank you
Dear Rosemerry, what you and your family have been through! Your beautiful poems capture a fine balance of love and grief. Gentle. May you all stay safe, healthy, and strong as you continue moving through this time. ❤️
Thank you, Even, thank you fro these beautiful wishes.
Rosemerry, holding you in my heart … your family too … so much grief cascading through you! Reading this I think YES, just sit with it, let it dominate the Now w/o challenge. Peace.
thank you dear Jazz … and yes.
Dearest, may you rest in this chair of grief letting the love rebalance your world. Death, grief, love and more love. xoxox
thank you, thank you, Jan.
Rosemerry,
Sending love & light to hold you in this time of such deep loss.
Thank you, Drew, I am needing so much the love and the light.
May you be well-supported by those who love you as you continue to move through this time of deep, deep grief. Sending much love your way from a couple hours away and deepest gratitude for the achingly beautiful way you share your journey with us through your words each day. Many blessings, Rosemerry.
Thank you dear tinsel buddy–love to you, and thank you, thank you for the feathers. thank you for the blessings, thank you for the love.
Dear Rosemerry, there are really no words to say of such immense loss…
When my dearest friend walked on, followed months later by my sweetest little buddy, my grandson, I felt as if the well of grief was deeper than I could ever imagine rising from…this poem brought me such comfort…
to know that we share this holy pain, this deepest of aches, with every human who has ever lived and loved through timeless time…I hold you with love, with care, with sorrow…
Tis a Fearful Thing
‘Tis a fearful thing
to love what death can touch.
A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be –
to be,
And oh, to lose.
A thing for fools, this,
And a holy thing,
a holy thing
to love.
For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.
To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death has touched.”
― Judah Halevi
oh friend, this poem is so true. thank you. and so … to be a fool.
Oh Sweetheart! What an awful cascade of loss. Two such dear souls, gone. I don’t know what to say other than I hold you in my heart.
thank you, laura … that’s the only thing, really. thank you