{ pewter }

On 2019081420190814 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems3 Comments

Time, the punisher of spirits,
has left me these reminders that
just a year ago, you sat at this table.

Scenes I relive
over and over,
smearing them
like these dingy pewter utensils,
for what is real is always imperfect.

What is important in life is simple,
in the end:
and at the end,
you knew that I loved you, and
I knew that you loved me,
in the midst of your pain and my heartache.

Time, the enforcer of mortality,
has left me these reminders:
and I will one day leave them

as well

The Ugliness of Life

On 2019081020190810 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

The ugliness of life, it waits
Around the corner, in the dark;
For all we might procrastinate,
The ugliness of life will leave it’s mark.

For long with patience will it seek
The moments we are down, or weak,
And scour down the shores and docks,
The country roads, or city blocks,
Or happy pathways in the mist
That we might hap to walk upon.
The ugliness of life, it sits
And from its hiding place, it won’t be drawn.

Until the moment it might choose
To show itself, to our regret:
When all we seem to have, we lose,
And our few certainties, upset.
Yet still we travel, as we must,
Our meagre stock of hope and pride,
With ugliness around, we trust
It’s sister, loveliness, is just outside…

The ugliness of life is there,
Around the corner, every day;
In all we seek, for all we dare,
The ugliness of life won’t
Go away

far afield

On 2019072820190727 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

we saw him at the grocery store —
an empty cart, a vacant stare —
a man who’d always worn a smile,
miles, now, from anywhere

the earth he’d tilled lay in the sun,
as he kept at the life he’d known,
but empty was a table chair
and inside, no light ever shone,

for she, who gaunt became, had gone;
and he himself had dug the earth
in which she rested, free from pain,
but what was all of this still worth?

the smell of soil freshly turned
brings moisture to his eyes, because
he wishes that dirt covered him,
so he could walk the fields

she does

Leaves

On 2019071320190713 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems1 Comment

I watched her slowly disappear.
A myriad of reason
Had caused her leaves to part the tree.
Both in and out of season.

She held on every way she could,
‘Til that last cord did sever,
And I wish I could hold her now,
But that hope’s gone

Forever

No Timetable

On 2019070420190704 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original Poems3 Comments

Time is cruel

In the way that only
Tireless, relentless things can be

Like gravity

But love resists

It knows no timetable, for
Love participates in eternity

Our minds get worn down
Our eyes fail
Our joints ache

But feelings persist

Long after the
Purblind keepers
Of timetables
Seem to think
Proper

And I’ll take love over time
Every
Loving
Time

So much.

On 2019063020190630 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

So much can happen in a year,
A month, a week, a day;
How sorrow can envelop us
Past what mere words could say —

And yet, there is in memory,
One joy that’s understood:
And that’s that we’ve known many things,
And some of them

Were good

… and maybe nurture more

On 2019052720190527 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

A child is born.

The end of one process and the start of another.

We then subject that child to developmental timetables and schedules that we get from books and articles.

And when the child is ahead of schedule, we note it with pride.

But if the child lags any part of the timetable, we may note that as well — with shame.

But there is no shame, because all of the timetables and schedules are just averages, and averages have no real meaning.

Each child, each person is different, unique, and the path each must take to find their way can’t be found in any book of averages.

Now understand this: grief is a newborn baby.

The end of one process and the start of another.

We then subject that grief to developmental timetables and schedules that we get from books and articles.

And when the grief is ahead of schedule, others may note it with affirmation.

But if your grief lags any part of the timetable, others will note that as well — and you may feel shame.

But there is no shame, because all of the timetables and schedules are just averages, and averages have no real meaning.

Each grief, each loss is different, unique, and the path each grieving person must take to find their way can’t be found in any book of averages.

So, respect grief as you would life. Save your timetables for the city buses. And maybe nurture more than you lecture.

Timeline

On 2019052620190526 By Beleaguered ServantIn Original PoemsLeave a comment

we met,
we loved,
you went away

it all came back again today —

the love
i fear
that’s meant to stay

(and i would not true love betray)

we met,
we loved,
what more to say?

like waves that roll in on the bay,

the chambers of
my future thoughts
are filled with

you & you &

yesterday

No Talent for Certainty

Tag: Grief

{ pewter }

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The Ugliness of Life

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far afield

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Leaves

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No Timetable

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So much.

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… and maybe nurture more

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Timeline

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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To share is human:

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