Only those who have loved
The warm blanket of good memories
wrap themselves around your shoulders.
The coldness of grief like a winter’s night
is pushed back by fabricated threads –
of love, laughter and lasting hope.
The cold it comes and it cannot be stopped.
The winter of grief befalls such a loss –
but the blanket warms against
and holds off the worst.
Forming a new season where cold dominates
but moments and movements of aching warmth and comfort
– waft about, coming up around the back,
sweeping over shoulders – tired with the exercise of tears.
And their caress lands to have and to hold.
Warm memories made today are threads for the future,
The blanket being sown through time,
for a time to come.
An eiderdown of beauty, of light and shade,
only to be known – in the grip of grief’s winter.
The greater the love, the deeper the winter,
and more achingly beautiful the blanket.
Only those who love will know griefs cold vastness
or the unfolding healing comfort of memories
Only those who have loved.
Original poem by Humble Donkey. This poem may be reproduced electronically for non commercial purposes, without express permission and with a link to this blog post.