Poems About Grief
Writing / Poems / Poems About Grief
Bad Hand Played Well
I’m sad it’ll take your mind but glad the demons with it.
Dealt a cruel hand but you played it well, all the way to showdown.
Death always terrified you but you don’t have to be scared.
It will swing by without you knowing and finally bring you peace.
Just like The Bay did.
I’ll cry when your light goes out and the air becomes colder.
But breathe in relief knowing your wounds won’t sting you anymore. Nor me. Nor us.
I’m sorry for what we had to do. We didn’t want to but it had to be done for everyone.
A cruelly ironic way for your life to start and end alone.
Can’t imagine what it was like. It wasn’t the right way to fade but I hope it was comfortable.
Sometimes you have to make the least bad play.
I hope your spirit goes and finds hers and you can ask her what you always wanted to know.
But this time she’ll stay.
I’ll see you soon and hope for one more comforting look that everything will be alright.
Like you always did with your kind eyes, and keep it with me forever once you’re gone.
The Musketeers are good. We’ll enjoy the rest of the fight and come find you and everyone else.
Good hand.
Quod Ero Spero
been hard now you’re on your way out,
a lot more than I thought.
hitting me hard in twisted ways.
first time in these spaces of anxiety and pain.
need you more than ever
and maybe that explains the spaces
last night a friend said he liked my book
and wanted to read it again
rather than pick up a new one off his shelf.
it was flattering and reassuring
like how you always were.
read through our messenger chat the other night
and cried listening to your voice notes
back when you could still speak.
it felt good.
I needed to empty those tears,
old and stagnant.
scroll to a father’s day passed and missed.
“enjoy, wish I could be there”,
“thanks, son. you’re always with me”.
you’ll always be with me too.
you link me the family coat of arms,
“Quod Ero Spero”.
ink it to the chest,
let it seep through to my heart,
the spirit of you and us.
walk the earth where you showed me how.
but instead, it’s now you who falls.
the less steps you take each day
the more I feel you in the passing trees.
not sure you heard me the other night,
just needed to talk.
a chat over a beer in your humble living room
by your dad’s sideboard.
wish I could have one more drink with you there.
a proper send-off, a real goodbye.
not this slow and vague one.
but it’s alright,
have keep moving without you
and I will
and make us both proud,
in spite of the disease.
brought as a test of the spirit,
to not break
and be what I hope to be.