Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Is it not the grave that takes them from us
It is not life’s end
Nor is it cruel fate - lost time
Nor is it God’s law - mortal frailty
It is distance that molds our memory
Light-years of joy, sacrifice, love
Painted in echoes of light
Amidst the passions of our hearts
We are tapestries woven in the womb
Adjoining the wider tapestry of family
A rope stretching back to the dawn of man
And forward to the twilight
Distance
How those echoes fade as we pass on the torch
Those who bore us are not mere fires in the dark
They are our suns
The centers of our solar families
Children, like the planets of this solar system
Revolve around each sun
Mother father, father, mother…
And when our sun fades into the endless night
Into a distance beyond our understanding
We are challenged to become the suns ourselves
To hold the worlds around us with the same
Unconditional love
Patience
Truth
Mercy
That was shown to us
A gift to light our way ahead
Into the distances we too shall cross
As we forge the light we shall leave behind.

The burden we face
When we lose the ones we love
Is one of distance
Yet we bear this weight
Not by pleasures or pain
Not by striving or seeking calm alone
We bear it by passing time with those we love
We bear it by sharing the joys vested in us
So that one day, we are the ones passing on
Leaving behind the memories of the suns that birthed us
So that they live on in all we do
We all awake
To know that there are angels among us.
We know angels by how we loved them
How they loved us
And how love unites us all,
Even in the dark
Even when there is distance all around
And the inevitability of our mortal frailty fills us with fear,
Yet, there is an irrepressible force of the human spirit
Whether it is love, creed, or purpose
We feel it when those who have gone
Are still here with us
In our hearts,
A presence in our homes,
A familiar face in our children,
Or a letter in their handwriting
They never leave us.
So that distance
Is not there at all.
It is merely a measure
Of how far we’ve come...
I wrote this poem on Thursday, May 5th, 2021.

It was written as a gift to a coworker to commemorate the death of her father.

I believe this was the second (or third time) I'd written a poem to commemorate an occasion. Both times, I did so rather quickly and on the fly, as I usually do, which fills me with a desire to write more poems to signify life events.

I felt I accomplished a consistent tone of reverence and a toeing of the line between somberness and hope, all of which serves this poem well and which the words in the poem find themselves characterized by.

My coworker was touched by this gift and I believe she read it at her father's eulogy, which, in turn, touched me.

I hope this poem touches you all, too.
I hope that, if you've lost a loved one, that they are, too, angels amongst us.

Enjoy!
DEW
felicia Oct 2015
60
i was standing there
in the dark
in silence
lost in thoughts.

i couldnt even stare at you.

but its okay now.
i have Him
and the promises
saying that everything will be alright.

and i wont ever stumble down.
see you till i see you again.
60th day. farewell,

bogoshipda.
smile.
felicia Sep 2015
30
A month.

I am a nightingale.
Living a new beginning, on a new sky.
New days, a rainbow of hope

That one second.

And I realize that
I shouldnt be afraid of anything.
And I know I can shoo the storm away of my sky.

     The stars' twinkle,
     And the moon's beam.
     The sun shines brightly,
     And the world keeps spinning round.

An eternity.

And I believe.
ps. imy. to you who is now smiling from behind the clouds. i hope you got the answers of all the things you have been questioning

to: august 6th, 2015
My Middle East is torn
Divided into sects and stones
Desert full of rage
Ancient cities bearing witness to atrocities
In the name of the merciful
Let the killing begin
Seek justice in an afterlife
For God is deaf

Ceasefire!
long enough to bury her face
Under the classroom's desk
Or onto her dead mother's chest
Nameless casualties in numbers
Gaze at the brilliant night sky
Rain of shells, rekindling the dark-ages
No truce is left
For God is deaf

The Father carried his young one
A lifeless log returned to earth
Faith unshaken among shouts and prayers
Let the words avenge you
Curse the creator in whispers
And spiral not into an uncharted nihilistic ground
Fuel your hate
For God is deaf

Commemorate the dead
With roses on their heads
Or with poems on their gravestones instead
Morality embedded in poetry, blood is shed
Humanity on trial
Blame not my words
For God is deaf
And in my Middle East
He remains,
Undead.
To all the innocent lives lost, I apologize for my helplessness.

— The End —