G is for Grief…

I watch

as the light prisms

around your irises,


knowing wafts out,

small flakes float past

and I can not catch them,

fleetness evade me

as I see loss

dance away in a flurry

of soft air.


I taste its passing and mourn,


an aroma of colour,

bright sweetness piercing

the wind with a call,


rises up

ere the world

learns what it means…


Posted at ABC Wednesday.

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  1. I deduced a piece of your heart. I think this post proves it. Though I can never know for sure.

    It is good to let memories wash over us. No matter what they are. I’ve been doing much the same over at the cat blog. It’s what formed us and made us who we are.

    I wrote from my gut just now, in the style of roughwater. so if it makes no sense at all, just blame it on the fact I’m a nutter.


    1. The pieces of my heart are no longer hiding…
      I am drowning myself in memories and experiences…trying to find…I’m not sure what, but it will come to me. πŸ™‚
      And BTW – I adore nutters – they are so interseting and free…


  2. Grief does seem to flit like a dancer in and out of our lives. It can hurt, but sometimes it can blossom into good memories too. Love the way this poem swirls the thoughts together.


  3. Though it talks about tough times, this was a beautiful and wondrous piece. The grief in my life has made me who I am, as much as my joys and loves. You paint a picture of hope from pain and joy from trauma, and you did so beautifully. Thanks Jo!

    p.s. Did Sara really call me a nutter? πŸ™‚


  4. I know grief, too. I know it so well, I could write volumes about it. But I’m not a writer, so there won’t be any volumes. And I’m not a talker, so there won’t be any deep conversations either. Nonetheless, I know that I will have wisdom to offer to my fellow human beings … in time and in my own way. Love, cat.


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