Naked Reflections Poetry: Shameless and Unapologetic

Tag Archives: Grief

Before the Call

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Twelve days before Donna left

I recorded her

Listening to me read “Before You Go”

A poem I wrote for her

She smiled and asked me if I wrote it

She said it was beautiful

Her last words spoken to me.

 

Two days before Donna left

I held her hand

Kissed her forehead

And listened to her breathe

Rubbed her pretty little feet

Fancy pink-polished toes

I watched her eyes roam

Behind delicate lids

Like she witnessed life unfolding

Before leaving

I said I love you.

 

A few hours before Donna left

She slept soundly

I placed my hand on her head

And prayed for God

To keep her in His care

To guide her in to Heaven

In His total peace

I told Donna to relax in God’s presence

To know that everyone would be fine

I kissed my fingers

Touched them to her cheek

Held her arm

Knew the coolness

Was pulling all her earthly love

Closer to her heart

Where that sweet spirit

Would ascend

I said I love you

The corners of her lips quivered

She heard me

I tiptoed out

Knowing she was going.

 

Before Donna left

I prayed as I went to sleep

For Donna to have a peaceful passing

An hour later

The call.

 

My selfish sorrows of sadness

Loss and grief

Then a joy unexplainable

For her victory

For her courage

For her wings

Like little Shelby said,

“Donna made it.”

Why Write?

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I have not posted in 30 days.

I contemplated new writing challenges,

but nothing compelled me.

Nothing resonated in my soul.

Nothing I read encouraged pen to paper,

fingers to keys.

But today I watched the movie, 5 to 7.

One line amongst many

poignant lines

spoke directly

to my silent writer.

“I don’t write when I’m happy.

Writers write when they have pain.

Writing takes the pain away.”

True. True. True.

I have written my best work

while enduring deep sadness,

long suffering.

Wrote through grief.

Cancer.

Heartbreak.

Lies.

Deception.

Weakness.

Loneliness.

Fear.

I introduce

my pen

paper

and keyboard

to words on pages

not found in clenched fists

or heart cries

or chemotherapy.

But words

birthed from joy.

Why write?

Why not?