Grief
Grief is always with me now,
my constant company
it seems.
She sleeps with me at night,
wrapping me in her arms,
waking me often
to let me know
that she’s still there.
At times she moves within,
lodging in my heart,
my solar plexus,
my lower gut,
clenching, wrenching,
wringing me out.
Sometimes she stands beside me,
a gentle arm across my shoulders,
gesture of compassion.
Other times I wear her as a mantle,
her load heavy and burdensome,
shrinking me down to a smaller me.
I feel her in my face,
her fingers pulling on my skin--
she and her friend depression,
bursting wide my reservoir
of tears.
At times she fades--
I think, “Oh, good,
she’s gone.”
But she returns
in answer to my secret fear
that I’ll forget.
Somehow I need her now
to help me in this time
of loss.
Oh, my dear heart,
I miss you so...
© Jill Ebsworth February
Grief is always with me now,
my constant company
it seems.
She sleeps with me at night,
wrapping me in her arms,
waking me often
to let me know
that she’s still there.
At times she moves within,
lodging in my heart,
my solar plexus,
my lower gut,
clenching, wrenching,
wringing me out.
Sometimes she stands beside me,
a gentle arm across my shoulders,
gesture of compassion.
Other times I wear her as a mantle,
her load heavy and burdensome,
shrinking me down to a smaller me.
I feel her in my face,
her fingers pulling on my skin--
she and her friend depression,
bursting wide my reservoir
of tears.
At times she fades--
I think, “Oh, good,
she’s gone.”
But she returns
in answer to my secret fear
that I’ll forget.
Somehow I need her now
to help me in this time
of loss.
Oh, my dear heart,
I miss you so...
© Jill Ebsworth February
 | About the author Jill Ebsworth is a member of our poetry circle Cat Charissage hosts monthly. She is a refined wordsmith and writes beautiful poems. Her beauty also shines through her artwork and her cheerful personality. She also reads her poetry at our open mic events at the Owl Acoustic Lounge and during COVID on our Zoom open mic events. |
Like many of us, Jill has suffered in life, and finds that the arts and poetry are some of the only things deep enough to face the mystery and express it. She was away from poetry for many many years, but has come back to writing in the past three or four years. I hope she never abandons it again. She wrote this blessing for our Poetry Circle and we are so grateful for it.
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