Capture your Grief Poetry final 5


Your broken heart in a picture; words on a card

Thoughts on a page; heart on your sleeve

Tears on you pillow;  wind in your hair

Expression is always there


From experience it grows inside

For us to find when we lie

Down to reflect of past wins or losses

Wisdom comes from within

Welcome what it has taught us

Some find it hard to see but we need to feel inside

for it to reach us; not to hide


The stranger in the window; you have forgotten who it is

Think back to a time when it looked familiar

Who is that face staring back at you

Time changes the reflection of ourselves

The passing of time cause us to reflect

As we reflect on the reflection in the window


What is the intention; we often ask

Is it pure, honest, real

Do we trust or question ones intention

Research, calculate its truth

To whom does the best intention help

You or me

Or no one

Our intentions can be misinterpreted, misread or misunderstood

Is it why we keep our deepest intentions private?


Peace, color, thought

Night, leaving, end

Dark, moon, rise

Red, orange, yellow turn to black

Happy to sad; here to gone


Goodbye sun

Thank you for Reading,

Namaste. Sheri



Bag of Grief

When tragedy strikes and grief ensues, your are very gently tossed into a black hole to which you curl up and stay, feeling like you never will, nor want to leave. One day many months later you see grey and as you look up the black is thinning, there may even be moments of light in your dark, they don’t last long but they begin to come in like fireflies. Years go by and you realize you are outside that hole you are not sure how it happened, some days you wish you could go back under that comforting blanket of sorrow but realize you have to learn, to grow, as well as, continue to grieve, but now you grieve differently. You now carry a bag of grief with you, everywhere. Sometimes it falls on the ground shocking you when the contents spill out, other times you hold it firmly closed. Very few people do you open it for.

Grief now takes other forms. You grieve the 2 year old that cries in a shopping cart because her mother is ignoring her, you grieve the 3 year old that laughs as her mom pushes her on the swing, you grieve every holiday that passes, every birthday, every new season, you grieve a name, a moment never had or never forgotten. Every memory turns into- before and after your loss.           You learn to live with that bag. There is no choice.

 Please share with me. Whats in your bag?