Grief and a poem

There are people who were once a part of my life, who are gone now. Some, from whom time and distance have separated me,  live on the fringe of my memory as their past selves. When I see or hear of them in the present, those current individuals are strangers to me. I remember them as they were when we were a part of one another's lives. Too many are gone from this life, living here only in the hearts and memories of those they love. They reside in a place of perfect fellowship with God, but today has been on of those days when I miss them very much. How grateful I am for the life God has given me and for the now in which I live. But occasionally, remembrance and sadness well up in my heart and soul, bringing with them the longing for a voice, a smile, a song, some news, from people who are not here, now. From time to time I "dabble" (if you can call it that) in poetry, but do not consider myself a poet. I don't write poetry regularly anymore, having very little talent for it. But I do read it often, and have a great love for it. I came across this poem that I wrote several years ago in response to some difficult times of grief in my life, and although I almost never share my poetry with anyone, I wanted to share it today in the hope that it will mean something to someone who may be grieving.

In Memoriam

It was a cold day when you left us. 

The August sun beat down upon us but could not warm our hearts.

I think the earth should stop, if for a fleeting moment, to mark such a life.

You were a traveler who included us on your journey.

Words fly--memories are molded into myth as small town storytellers speak of you.

Words pour--from me when met with joy.

Not today.

Today, the halted sounds of my speech ring with regret and sorrow.

Hope?

Yes. It is here, but will not be found today.

On another day, we will find it in the strangest places--

a worn flannel shirt, a yellowed note scrawled upon, the eyes of a stranger we pass, 

the warmth of an old friend we meet by chance.

Not here and now. It hides, but we believe.

--------

You told us not to waste this time, that dreaming is not dead to those who will.

Did you struggle? I think so.

You did not yield, plunging toward and in, for always more...seeking, finding, a quality unspoken in this life.

It showed. It shined. It was here when you were and we saw it in you.

So, we do not want to let you go. 

What is over is what we search for while the workers cover the emptiness with fresh, red dirt

on this day. still. moving.

Loving and Learning,