today's tea is London fog
Grief housing
Poem to Moshe
Grief feels like 2 grey clouds turning into arms that grab on to your neck, hide your eyes, cover your mouth, capture your ability to breathe and hold your body down till you are suffocating in fumes of memories of the loss of someone who didn't deserve to die because they did so much for all those around them, they cared so much, they wanted to help so much, but now they are gone and there is an empty space in the world where they used to reside, grief is a light sucking force that remind us how close we are to death, that at any moment someone we love or adore can be ripped from existence and become just fragmented memories that every time you dream or think about, make you feel an overwhelming emotions,greif is the guilt that comes every time you laugh
Stars and Footprints
(A poem in honor of Bridget Harold)
A star appeared in the sky,
A star I never noticed,
A star always there but to dull for us to see,
Tonight it was brighter,
I knew it was you.
Though we can’t see or hear you anymore,
We know your there,
We know you’re not gone.
You’re listening to our wishes,
As we wish you were here with us.
You won’t be forgotten,
Your star shining so beautiful and bright,
When you left,
You left Footprints,
Memories,
You left footprints on the people you touched,
Footprints that can never be erased,
Though someday,
We may forget your face, voice or even name
The memories you gave us,
Will last forever,
They can never be erased.
Though we can’t see you,
We know you’re not gone,
You’re still alive,
Living your life in the people you touched,.
You won’t be forgotten,
You’re memory shining bright,
You will never be forgotten,
You will always be remembered,
Because everyday,
You’re spirit shining through all those who knew you,
It shines as bright,
As your beautiful star,
Looking down at us in the night sky.
2011
John Donne
Holy sonnet death be not proud
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Christina rossetti
Passing away, saith the World, passing away:
Chances, beauty and youth, sapp'd day by day:
Thy life never continueth in one stay.
Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to grey
That hath won neither laurel nor bay?
I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May:
Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay
On my bosom for aye.
Then I answer'd: Yea.
Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away:
With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play,
Hearken what the past doth witness and say:
Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array,
A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay.
At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day
Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay:
Watch thou and pray.
Then I answer'd: Yea.
Passing away, saith my God, passing away:
Winter passeth after the long delay:
New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray,
Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven's May.
Though I tarry, wait for Me, trust Me, watch and pray.
Arise, come away, night is past and lo it is day,
My love, My sister, My spouse, thou shalt hear Me say.
Then I answer'd: Yea.
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