I wrote this poem in two stages. The first part is about the horrific emotions I felt, and the state of mind I was in, almost immediately. The beginnings of this poem emerged within a few weeks of Christian’s death, and for months, I felt the painful depths of each and every word I wrote.
It wasn’t until I was on the edge of life and death, or as I call it, “the living dead” that I could not hang on anymore. I begged my God to take me home. It was in God’s reply back to me that showed me a future, somewhere out there on that dark horizon. And even though, at the time, I wasn’t sure how I would emotionally arrive at it, I could, at least see where my journey was taking me. So, I wrote down the words of God. After doing so, I could see that God was making a promise to me, to hold on, in time I would be healed of the terrible grief I experienced, and even better; that a powerful transformation would occur in my life. Is all I had to do was to keep an open and loving heart, trust and follow the path and road signs (words) God laid out for me, in the second part of my poem.
By the end of it all, I could see through the illusion of death and that life just does what life does. It’s not personal. By the grace of God, I learned to have grace myself, and see that, although loss is very sad, there is no reason to fear separation from another; for in an infinite reality, we are, and always will be connected. We are infinite beings! It is just the illusion of separation of ourselves in this life, that confuses us so much.
(For my Beloved Christian, who left this realm, March 31, 2010)
How cold and cruel is death’s painful sting,
As tears falls from swollen eyes.
Then tales of separation,
Begin to speak their lies.
They tell you that you’ve lost,
The one you love so much.
Forever to be gone,
Coldly taken by death’s touch.
Ripped out by death’s greedy hands.
Then doubts and fears of terror,
Begin to make demands.
They tell you that you’re guilty,
That somehow you’re to blame.
And you begin to question,
in the fire of hellish flames.
On the street, I thought I saw you,
How I’ve longed to see your smile,
But the tricks played on a forlorn mind,
Are just ghosts of death’s denial.
Ravaged by a broken heart,
I walk among the living dead,
… a victim of death’s dart.
The lonely depth of this empty nest,
Proves more than one can bear.
Death’s sterile way to pluck a life,
Lacks empathy and care.
Obsessed with thoughts of life or death,
My mind says it’s the end.
I wait above the precipice,
In two worlds, do I stand.
Through emotions, do I wade.
Neither am I dead nor living now,
Decisions must be made.
How fervently, I’ve begged my God,
my life on Earth be done.
The answer comes back kindly,
“Your time has not yet come….
… Within this bitter cup you drink,
in the poison you ingest,
is the promise of a miracle
from which transcendence manifests.”
Purifying flames consume.
Devouring a time that’s passed,
Leaving ashes as its tomb.
But there, upon this barren waste,
Where death has done its deed,
Beneath this fertile soil,
Lays the promise of new seed.
Left on the path, in devastations wake,
And upon this hallowed ground.
Where new life will soon be found.
I stop in awe and wonder,
At all I once believed,
That death could be so ugly,
Oh how, I was deceived!
How merciful is death’s great disguise,
So cleverly LOVE hides.
through life’s ever-changing tides.
Despite my loss and sorrow…
far beneath my deepest pain,
I’m remembering who I really am,
This death was not in vain.
So grateful, this sweet sacrifice,
My loved one made for me.
That I could find these precious truths,
Through such pain and misery.
to keep an open heart.
To BE great love and kindness,
Through the bitter and the tart.
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