writebuzz®
About Us   Publish and be read! Poetry, lyrics, short stories, scripts, words of wisdom, features, memorials, blogs (a day in my life), memoirs, history, business, and I.T.
Home   Adults   Youngsters   The Plot Thickens   Publications  

Options
More by this Author
 
© writebuzz® 2004-2024
All rights reserved.

The copyright of each of the publications on this site is retained by the author of the publication. writebuzz.com has been granted permission to display the publications under the terms and conditions of membership to the original site. Publications should not be copied in either print or electronic form without prior permission. Where permission is obtained the authors must be acknowledged. Thank you.
 
  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry

Poetry

Source: Adults

Author: jonny graham

Title: The death of Terence , the funeral , and the aftermath .

The death.

It rained the morning you died.
The traffic was slow , the bus late.
I missed your passing by ten minutes.
Stood you up on your final day.
The hospice was as usual , peaceful.
I arrived half-running , half-walking.
There is something very humbling
about a nurse who can look you in the eye
and convey a personal message
without the need for talking.

Alone , I held your hand and smoothed your hair.
Struggled to control my emotions.
Accepted this final act , this closure.
The world swam through out-of-focus eyes
and I felt enlightened.
Relieved of the burden of care.
All the trauma now means nothing in summation.
Thank God I didn't have to flick the switch
to instigate your passive termination.

We cannot even speak now.
You , lying there on death-bed sheets.
Drawn up , foetal and coma-curled ,
compromised by redundant catheters.
Me , furrowed and harrowed with concern ,
realizing the end has finally come ,
fraught with the power of still enduring love.
There is no great comfort in this release ,
but the silence of the moment is , for now , enough.

The funeral.

I watched from the church doors.
Saw myself at the graveside ,
saw you leave this place.
They said I spoke ,
I can't remember that ,
just the sorrow and the broken hearts
and the red-rimmed eyes
under wide brimmed funeral hats
and the state of sombre melancholy ,
that brought us all too near perhaps ?
And everybody was far too nice.
I just wanted to be alone.
To leave this place of final goodbyes
before my world collapsed.

The aftermath.

Acceptance is instant.
Coming to terms is anything but.
Sometimes I think I see you ,
in a crowd , on the street .
Tricks of the mind , wishful thinking .
Grieving takes time
and it doesn't get any easier.
When it get's dark in the afternoons ,
that's what I don't like.
The sense of solitude , of loneliness ,
is somewhat overpowering.
But time moves on.
Today I planted crocus bulbs on your grave,
and come the Spring ,
new life will be flowering.





Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry
 

writebuzz®... the word is out!