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Sorrow

When you were yet a child, so dear to me,
tummy flat upon the rug, finger on a book
to read the lines, your lips a babbling brook,
my heart went out to you, my busy bumble-bee.

I loved those hours, so full of joyous play,
loved your curly hair, the sturdy limbs
so quick your favourite oak to climb;
better times there never were, nor gladder days.

Now I sit beside your arms upon the quilt,
so motionless, their lifeline out of symmetry,
and cannot grasp the ingrate chronology,
must hide my face awhile, with tears of guilt.

Yet still I marvel at the gallant spirit in you,
understand battles in those dimming eyes
and guess your nameless sorrow, the solitude,
youth’s body wasted frail his soul to heaven rise.

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Today is the anniversary of my son Patrick's death from ALS/MND. I've already posted this poem, but felt like paying tribute to him again, as I do every year, as well as on his Birthday.
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Comments

Thanks for your kind words, Teddy. Yes, writing is a source of relief. Bringing sad experiences out in the open always helps. Especially if one can be creative in some way or another.
I've fixed that weird glitch at the top. I always manage to do something wrong!
I also think my mother died of a broken heart after we lost Dad. She just lost interest in life, especially as we had to bring her from the lovely farm to Buenos Aires. She loved the farm, but she could not stay there alone. My Dad only administrated it.
So you lost a brother, that must have been a terrible shock to you, as well. So I'm also sending you a virtual hug from Patagonia, where Spring is almost here.
Best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

I sensed the deep sorrow of this poem. Well done

Thank you, they were 5 devastating years. Left me with Fibromyalgia, a painful muscle disease that's chronic. A lot better now, since I became vegetarian. Yesterday was the anniversary of Patrick's death, he's in Heaven now, far better than we are here. Thank you for your visit and kind comment. Best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

To reduce grief
cut pain
else you will linger
still

We feel your losses
ma'am Gracy

cut grief

I once posted a poem here on Grief
do read please it may help thee

I fell the pain and sorrow in this write

Chrys

check out our chat room open to all 24/7

Dear lovedly, nice saying by Budha, I admire his teachings. Grief is not easy to cut, but one learns to accept the losses. Unfortunately, I was not able to mourn Patrick at the time because my second husband got dementia immediately after. It lasted 15 years, he died here near Bariloche and we spread his ashes behind a Budhist temple.
I'm convinced the Fibromyalgia is due to not mourning sufficiently. Only recently I feel truly sad and dream a lot about all my lost loved ones, even pets...
Virtual hugs, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Big folks say //and go away/// they some remember till many a days/// guys like me are washed away// in the river's tide or gusty wind/// we all are reminded of penance ///we do
and yet life goes on with or without remorse //
grief of course //and so I composed my poem
in Grief be brief easier said done //
I cannot deliver sermon // to any one
May your wisdom prevail //you have experience// I am a poet only sharing my views with many //so keep at it// it gives solace to thee
forgive and forget me

Dear lovedly, thanks for writing your answer in poetry. Much appreciated. The anniversary is over now, so I've even been for my first long walk since the pandemic. We visited a field behind our cable car mountain. No people to speak of in that field. It was lovely to breathe in the fresh air after such a long time just walking along our road for about 20 blocks.
Thank you again, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

some day we will also go by others upon our routes shall play granny once walked this way they will smile and say
hurray
perhaps in heaven hear them you may
lovedly knows damn all the ball is in an unknown court heaven or earth be one and all it's upot you to make your own call peace be within thee be happy kill loneliness my pparents passed away half a hundred years today but haven't forgotten till today pass away we may some day one day if not today tomorrow will come it may not may we may meet or nay who can that say

Dear lovedly, do you mean to say that it's the anniversary of your parent's death? If so, many hugs to you from far away. I like your replies in verse.
I don't know about finding peace (at least with the fact that my two son's died way too young), but I find acceptance...sort of.
With one's parents one grieves for them, naturally and forever, but it's not easy when the cycle is out of zinc, as in my case. I know that far worse things are happening all over the world, but I was born the way I am and I've felt the unfairness of my experience deeply.
God bless you and may you have peace, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Dear lynn, yes, I felt it when I wrote it. Have some more, but will post on his birthday in December.
Bless you, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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