Waxing Lyrical a day before Wednesday

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I have in the past posted a poem – on a Wednesday purely because waxing and Wednesday start with the letter W. That’s pretty much the extent of my ‘wordsmithery‘.

But today is World Poetry Day and so here is a poem on a Tuesday. A dear friend recently lost his dear Ma or Oma as he would call her. Sweetly and tenderly he shared a few things about her. I was very moved.

This poem captures something of what he shared. I dedicate this poem to my friend, his family and the LORD who now securely holds Oma.

Wave

Waving goodbye

She almost always stood at that little window

and that little woman

round in form with her heart smiling,

we her family she loved, we her family she had.

Waving goodbye we smiled back,

further down the road and

a final glance revealed, the wave continued,

her love – always lingered long on the heart

like a lighthouse

radiating light and warmth

a wave of life beckoned us in

and blessed the journey out

and now we too have been waving

in loving, holding, accompanying.

Praying as this soft woman

now leans into the end of days

her journey almost over, almost begun.

And so she is gone, we weep and wave for her now –

she journeys apart from the body,

at home in the presence of the Lord.

Her head bowed here, but lifted there

He waves and beckons

and blesses her journeys end –

the lighthouse keeper with many rooms.

For if it were not so – he would not have told her.

He would not have told us

Wave – come in come in

Wave

Original poem by Humble Donkey. This poem cannot be reproduced without the permission of the author.

Waxing Lyrical on a Wednesday – Only those who have loved.

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.