© by Christine O’Brien
“Be brave, stay busy.”
Well-intentioned remedies for a broken heart,
but she’s no longer here for me to see.
Taste of salty tears
as I bake pumpkin cookies.
I’m sure she would do
something like this
if it were me who died.
Like Water for Chocolate
will those who partake
share this terrible grief?
Would it heal something in them?
This crazy, lonely, isolating grief.
Sometimes, it’s hard to breathe
and a falling leaf which softly
brushes my shoulder recalls her.
there are so many falling leaves…
The uncried tears from my entire life
until I’m wrung out;
and then there are more.
I search my house for
every tangible thing she gave me
–a scrap of blue velvet,
an old Christmas card,
the wired butterfly earrings
she fashioned for me–
all become more precious.
Any command to be done with this grief
This is one reason why I love poetry. It helps me to navigate the tough stuff. Losing a dear friend, suddenly, a few years ago, I went into shock. How could I make sense of this? How would I traverse this painful chasm? While well-intentioned others want us to put on a brave front, everything inside says to feel this loss all the way down to the bone. Poetry has helped me with this countless times. Sometimes it is through reading other’s poetry that I find validation and support. Frequently, it is through my own writing that I am rescued.
What about you? As a writer, artist, poet, how do you handle the big stuff? Do you try to avoid it? Or do you enter this territory when you are called to? How does your creative process and chosen genre support you in writing or painting your way through loss or change? Write about this in your journal.
As we learn to process and integrate “the big stuff” of life, we become writers with depth.
Have a peaceful day.