I tried to process my grief in poetry. It was easier at first with haikus. I couldn’t focus on anything. All I saw was my baby crumbling because his baby, his precious son was dead. There’s no greater anguish in life as a Mom than not being able to protect your child from unbearable pain. I tucked my own pain away until I could process it as I do best in poetry.

 

Magnitudes beyond

Dismantled ruminations

Tickled pink sorrow

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Corpulent spirals

Reverberated silent

Rapturous horrors

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Quietus be damned

Soporific prophecy

Accolades revoked

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A blooming life

It is not a sweet budding rose

Or blooms oozing blood

It is not petals of withered love

Or stifled blooms gasping

It is not a mere passage

Or cracks of blooming suspense

It is not a promised bouquet

Or a requiem symbolizing regrowth

It is not a forever perennial

Or a blooming happy ever after fairy tale

But it is our budding rosy story

Filled with daily anguished decay.

 

 

Rapturous visions

Suspended revelations

Accolades denied

 

Love, Gramma and Grandpa

 

https://www.dignitymemorial.com/obituaries/skowhegan-me/john-hovey-8768501