Poems About Grief
Writing / Poems / Poems About Grief
Ok With You Going Like This
despite the suffering
I’ve had an epiphany
and that is
I am ok with you going like this
despite the pain
of watching you waste away
and leaving us
I’m glad you can’t witness it
because if you could see
the curtains closing
I’m not sure how
you would have handled
likely not well
and that’s what’s hit me of late
to be ok with bearing this
for your sake
to only have these memories
on my side
on the edges of my mind
as yours fades
that already went
months ago
like your son just reminded
you’d seen five lifetimes of death
in only one
more than your fair share
which is why I’m fine
to carry this last one for you
out of sight
out of mind
despite its weight
or cruelty
or unjust
despite how much it would have hurt
to see us have to endure
you would have been grateful
we could
or would
and did
so go
like I know you are
like I told you to
when I gave you my blessing
earlier this year
go like this
I’m ok with it
just try not to draw it out
however you leave
go free
without worrying about it
Bedside
it came on quick
and caught us off guard
despite being ready for it
any day
since the last few months
or the last year
something I’ve been waiting for
hoping for
the long awaited relief
my soul needed
and now it’s here
I feel myself clinging
to the last piece of you
like you were clinging
to me and the boys
before the morphine
I won’t leave this bedside
until I’ve seen you off
you won’t be alone
it’s going to end right
with us boys by your side
to guide your spirit on
into the infinite
where one day
ours too will reside
Sunset Stars
exhausted
haven’t slept right for a week
this year was supposed to be it
the rebirth
but I’ve been stalling
and I don’t think my spirit
will let me rest
until I do
what I told you I would
what I told myself I would
weird space I’m passing through
vague
flat
numb
a bit off it
just want a 6 month sobatical
in Latam like back in ’13
such a weird mode without you
makes me think
how warped it’ll become
the more time blasts on
nostalgic for pre-2020
when I had your warmth
had me on your mind
but I no longer am
no longer can be
and it feels strange and vague
like an overcast autumn Tuesday
not bad but ok
looking at the fallen leaves
meloncholic
a bit unsure
slight unease
times like these I’m glad
you had more sons
damn it’s been important
makes me think how rough it’ll be
when they go
if I don’t before them
they keep me more hinged
especially in times like this
when Nihilism calls
ushers me in with a seductive whisper
“Cali would be fun. Nothing bad will happen.
no narcos or banditas this time”
I don’t disagree
but fear now resides in me
what did you do in your mid-30s
and how did you know
did you think as much as I do
were both paths pulling you
or did you trust the gods
and let fate decide
and surrender to the flow
times like these I’d love a chat
in some basic beat
over a curry and naan
watch you banter
with a foreign waitress
and meet confused laughter
a trait I only now appreciate
that was in me too all along
now seeing remnants of you
appearing like sunset stars
as your day ends
and mine blackens
show me more of them
during nights like these
show me your glistens
so I know you’re with me
show me more
let me see
a plateau view
of your sunset stars
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.
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.