grief – Page 2 – Simon's still stanza

Another Side of Loneliness or ‘On Living Life to the Full’

Another Side of Loneliness or ‘On Living Life to the Full’

Paul Murray, who is a poet, scholar of Christian Spirituality and a Dominican Friar, writes in his book, Scars: Essays, Poems and Meditations on Affliction (Bloomsbury: 2014), on both the gift of our uniqueness and the loneliness that can be felt along with it. Part of our lives are unique to us alone and others cannot perceive, think and feel exactly the same way that we each do. By the way, I’m fine at the moment. I just recognise having had this experience before and wondered if others may identify with this in some way.

‘On Living Life to the Full’

When you heart is empty

And your hands are empty

You can take into your hands

The gift of the present

You can experience in your heart

The moment in its fullness.

***

And this you will know,

Though perhaps you may not yet

Understand it,

And this you will know:

That nothing

Of all you have longed for

Or have sought to hold fast

Can relieve you of your thirst,

Your loneliness,

Until you learn

To take in your hands

And raise to your lips

This cup of solitude

This chalice of the void

And drain it to the dregs.

(All rights to Paul Murray, OP and Bloomsbury Press 2014)

Interesting that I had read this, as, in recent times, the author Hannah Kent tweeted on her @HannahFKent account “My favourite new word: Waldeinsamkeit (German, noun). The feeling of being alone in the woods, an easy solitude, connectedness to nature.”

I partly covered what Murray is talking about in a closing section to one of my previous posts, “The Great Alone”

How do we hold them,

Their damp, dark spirits,

In the fog,

When they realise

That we each

have an alone

that is unique to ourself,

and no other human

can truly dwell

with us

in that beautiful

yet alone

place?

Simon C.J. Falk 10 June 2016

Gone

Gone

In the wake of those stricken by suicide. If this raises concerns for you, or for one whom you love, seek assistance now. Australia https://www.lifeline.org.au/ ; USA http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ ; Canada http://suicideprevention.ca/thinking-about-suicide/find-a-crisis-centre/ . Or check where you live.

(i)

Gone.

You were.

Now

Not.

Gone.

No longer here.

The dance of dark and light,

Padding within,

Has come to

It’s zenith;

To is plummet.

The darkness has cloaked you,

And the light

Has gone.

Except for a glimmer

That we grasp in memory,

Holding it in our hands,

Lest

It too

Is gone.

Were you freed

As you crossed

That final breach?

Or was it a sudden last jab

Or pain?

Then did you rise?

Like a raptor aloft,

Away from the soil of your sorrow?

Do you now feel pain?

Or a new one,

As you witness the wake,

The grief,

Of the remnant

Who mourn the loss,

your passing

From their midst?

In their lives now

You’ve left.

And left, yes,

A capacious hole,

Like the cold fissure

Of a crevasse,

Deep, sharp, biting and

Dark at its bottom.

As the pain left you

It alighted

On those who love you,

Who miss you.

The hurt is not gone,

Just transferred to others

Now needing,

Oh yes, needing much,

To do the healing

That needs to be done.

(ii)

May the dance of light

Leap over the shadows.

May its rays bring a new warmth

To the cold hurt.

And may those who remain

Catch the light

To illumine their pain.

And may that light,

Ever so bright and warm,

As it animates them,

Shine forth.

And may it beam so brightly

That it goes to you

And completes the cycle.

But,

This time,

Encircling your darkness in its ray,

That you may become

A star shining,

A beacon of peace,

And

The darkness

Gone.

Simon C.J. Falk 13 December 2015

The Rage Rages On

The Rage Rages On (edited) – Retro Post

TableLight

We are coming to the end of #Movember and, as I think on matters mental health, I am reminded of this set of lines that I penned years ago. Back then, due to various reasons, I had spiraled into a situational depression. I am fine now, but was not then. It was important to get help. So, in these last days of #Movember, I urge men especially to get help from their doctor or other helplines in places where they come from. The idea to do another retro post came from witnessing our esteemed blogger colleague, Robert Okaji at O at the edges, do a great retro post recently.

The Rage Rages On

And the rage rages on!

The rage is maintained:

Surging up,

Billowing forth,

Pulsing through the veins.

The rage rages on!

War against terror,

Against Wall Street,

Against each other,

Against ourselves,

The rage rages on!

I feel it in me

Like a twirling tempest,

Like a surging sea,

Then I feel flat:

So flat,

Heavy,

Weighed down,

Septic,

With exhausting, raging weight.

I anger

At where I am,

At who I am.

I know not who I am anymore,

Save that I want to write again.

Verses, poems, stories

I want to write again.

My eyes are dry and heavy,

My limbs, like suspended concrete

Stiffly droop from my frame.

My head feels heavy

And thick like all its

Liquid is turning solid,

Or like gooey grease.

I am losing my memory

Or am I in fact retaining or attending?

I feel as if I am shutting down

Like a flower retreating from the evening time,

Closing its petals to the gloom.

And I feel in the eventide of my years

Ageing, old-ening, arthritic in body and ideas,

Stiffening against the blows of life

And the pains of past excesses

And yet

To put it down

To lay it on the page

Somehow that helps,

Anchors it,

Shapes it,

Puts it in its place,

And ejects some of the venom.

Original 22 February 2008, edited 28 November 2015

Fields of Broken Dreams

Fields of Broken Dreams

There has been much sadness in our world and nation of late. Added to this, each of us has a network of loved ones weighed down in difficulties of their own. Yet, in all of this, the goodness of humanity still abides. This little rhyme wrestles with the pain and the potential of such a paradox.

Fields of Broken Dreams

Sometimes it feels as if we walk

Through fields of broken dreams,

Wishing as we face the odds

That it wasn’t as it seems.

We grieve the air disasters,

Where lives flew off in a plane,

To the final sounds of “Alright, goodnight!”

Then they were never seen again.

Lives that had been a-flying

Were shot down from the sky,

Followed by calls to ‘shirt-front’ the responsible,

And still, we know not why.

Then, closer to the home front,

Fires blaze across the land,

Ashen faces lament ashen places,

And many houses no longer stand.

Then there’s all our local sadness,

The dead, the dying and the lost,

The marriages that are no more,

Make both the measured and measureless cost.

As we face up to it,

And walk through the rubble of these fields,

We fossick through the stubble,

For any meaning that it yields.

As the ashes moisten

From the dew and soaking rain,

As the beloved bodies are buried,

And people go home again.

As the sands of time grind onward,

And the broken pieces rot,

A healing slowly grows within,

Till we see what we have got.

The broken shards of pottery

Form drainage for a newly potted shoot,

For from the stench of rotting compost

New life is forming root.

We bare our scars of brokenness,

Shining in new springtime sun,

And from our anguish comes compassion,

As we realise we are one.

For we all feel it in our guts,

For those trapped in the Lindt shop,

Our hearts too plunged in the ocean

As the aeroplanes did drop.

We walk these global fields together,

Through the ashes and by the streams,

And we’ll walk on to tomorrow,

With more wisely tempered dreams.

Simon C.J. Falk 7 January 2015

Little One

Little One

Surely the saddest funerals or memorial services that we attend are for children. The verse below accounts one I led recently for some parishioners who are really friends as well.

Be warned – it may trigger emotions for some.

Little One

For Anonymous

(i)

Children heralded your coming.

We waited

As you were formed

Like seed sprouting

From succulent soil.

Then

We heard

The tender shoot

That is you

Had withered.

How the pain hit

Like scorching sun

Over a shoot

In a dreadful drought

The sandblasting wind

Buffeting us

Bruising our tender hearts,

Longing hearts,

That had

Been full

Of expectation.

So we handed you over,

Dear little one,

Handed you to

The refining fire.

The cleansing, burning, bright flames

To shine in our inner darkness.

There they sat

Your ashes.

For a time.

Until the summons,

The gathering of the clans

Who would come

With tears in eyes

But love in their hearts.

They were clad

In joyous

Verdant

Floral frocks

Brimming with life and colour.

They formed

A cushion

Of caressing care

To carry you

On the wings of prayer

To where angels dwell.

He has gone to join the angels

And is singing angelic song

Do not doubt his destination

For with God he does belong.

(ii)

And they carried others too

Those Colourful Companions of care.

They carried your parents

Who

Exhausted by their grief

Needed a fence of family

Around them

To keep the darkness out

Or hold them

In those dark moments

Of heavy eyelids

And limp limbs.

Little one

We will remember you

Please remember them

Who love you oh so dear.

But they may find some consolation

That you are loved so fully in heaven

As well as with us here.

Simon C.J. Falk 29 October 2014

Remembering Lost Loved Ones Still Present to Us

At this time of the year we often celebrate joyous things and events. At this stage of the year we often have time of rest and leisure. We have time to ponder and reflect. For some of us this is also a time tinged with sadness. We may have a new loss in our lives. We may remember losses from times past. We may still grieve as we remember. But we also know that the shoots of healing are springing up in the fertile soil of our lives.

Picture: Reflection and remembrance pool at St. Clement’s Galong, NSW.

Remembering Lost Loved Ones Still Present to Us

You were there

now

you are not.

We could speak

to you

hear your voice

see your smile.

These

are now denied to us.

We choke

on the words

we wished

we said to you

or wished

we heard from you.

The good-bye

that may have been.

Sometimes we just feel

an empty sadness

or, a sad emptiness

a hole in our lives

the size of you.

As our throat twitches

and our lips tremble

and our eyes pulse

from the tears spent

a heaviness

descends

upon us.

Our shoulders sag

and our limbs flop.

How can we say

“joy to the world”?

when our world

feels

like a puzzle

with a lost piece

that will never return.

But then we remember

Those wondrous moments

We had together.

The words we did share.

Now

there is a ‘bright sadness’

as someone once said.

We, though we miss you,

are grateful

for those

blessed

precious

priceless moments.

They are etched

in our memories forever

engraved into our hearts.

From these

we keep your life

burning like a sacred presence

before our mind’s eye

and in our heart’s embrace.

You are part of

the life we live

and the person

we have become.

We thank you

for the gift your life

continues to be to us.

Simon C.J. Falk 4 January 2014.

Colours Shaded Blue

This one is hot off the press! News has not been good in recent days. There have been various changes, griefs and losses in our lives. Friends move away. Others have family with cancer. People in our State (of NSW) are beset by devastating fires. This poem takes up some of the mood and moves to concrete, Christian hope.

Colours Shaded Blue

If colours fill our lives

Then these days are shaded blue;

As fresh news comes upon us

We face this shadowed hue.

Change and loss and illness

Fill our spoken words and screens;

The unknowing makes us wonder

As we tremble at unseens.

Sometimes we have too much information,

At others, not enough;

But when those near us suffer