Grief; Triumph Over

A poem about the emotions of loss.

Grief; Triumph Over

I never dreamt, as a buoyant young girl,
when a gift box was my idea of the world,
and my pale smooth skin, unproven by toll,
as early and green as the bones of my soul,
would I one day, amidst the sadness of now,
so stripped of my beauty and the lie it avowed,
stand yet so strong in this black veil and dress,
so tall I could touch him, in heaven, so blessed.

But I am here.

My back is straight despite the pain which nests within my heart,
he's watching, only watching now, for we are moons apart.
He must see that I am strong, and that our love resounds,
I must not linger about my middle, looking at the ground.
The people are recalling him, spirits glimpsing back,
so many radiant memories, dressed in tears and black.

But he's not here.

I think of him in colour, knees buckled by his kiss,
hand by hand, drift to sleep, goodnights which I will miss.
Words of love to my ear while pushing forth new life,
angry at me, sad for me, glad that I'm his wife.

But we are not there.

This absence by my side is such a vastness so forlorn,
a vacuum into which I might so easily be drawn.
Who I am without his life, today I won't know still,
but I shall cry until I can't, tomorrow then I will.

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