Blog Archives

Son and Sky

Son and Sky
 
Laughter back in her life
Interesting projects
Meaning and purpose abound
And yet
Three sleepless nights this week
It would appear her body
Is aware
The black stallion of Mother’s Day
Is galloping toward her 
Hooves pounding the tempo
Requiem for a Dead Child
Fourteen years since
Her so sad son
Laid down the intolerable burden
His life had become
Her childless mother lesions
Ache
With familial longing
As she sits in the dark
Waiting for dawn
Slowly it comes
Swathes of colour
Join together
‘Till the sky is a breathtaking blaze
Her atheistic heart
Longs for a moment
To see her artist son’s hand
Painting this gift of morning skies
But what was
Can never be again
The yin of grief settles
Beside the yang of love
It is enough for today
 
Tricia 5/2013
 

 

A Book Spine Poem

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Sailing Alone Around the Room
Longing for My Child
eating fire

I composed this poem last Mother’s Day. I’m posting it today for the parents of the massacred children.

(I posted this from my iPad and for some reason that I don’t understand the comments are not showing here, so thank you to those who commented on A Book Spine Poem)

Valentine

Valentine

Valentines Day
Was never on their radar
Love was for life
Not once a year
She knew she would never
Have what once was
Life and time
Changed and moved
And she would never again
Be the same
But the knowing could not stop
The longing
To be held once more
In the arms of the long dead
To see again the sparkle
In the eyes of love
To touch the cheek
With its hint of stubble
And the laughter
Oh how she missed their playtimes
She wondered when
If ever
The knowing would become
Acceptance

Tricia 14/02/2012

Journey Beyond Wishing

JOURNEY BEYOND WISHING 
 
Grief
An exhausting experience
Tossed in a churning ocean of why and what if
We grieve for so many things
Life is full of little losses
Then there are the monumental losses
The ones that can never be fully comprehended
These we move through hour by hour
Moment by moment
We travel these uncharted seas
In whatever direction our being leads us
No markers to guide us
At times our inner voice the only means of navigation
Death is a journey beyond wishing
The agony of possibility
Combined with impossibility
The never knowing
How to accept the never knowing
And the sense of loss
The ache within the ache
Longing
The ache that defies description
How to survive the not wanting to survive
Those angry steps that tempt fate
“Come and get me you bastard fate”
At times beyond caring
Seeking only oblivion
Reaching for anything to ease this pain
Wanting darkness
Not light
With light we see what is behind us and before us
Often not ready for the seeing yet somehow understanding
Open eyes and an open heart necessary if we are to move forward
With seeing can come new waves of pain
Facing the truth of what was and what is
Through a fragmented filter
This viewing of things in segments can help one survive
Feeling the pain of what is known
And then the unknown
Those precipitous cliffs of impossibility
The acceptance of questions without answer
One of life’s hardest lessons
Often wanting just five more minutes
So the journey continues                                      
 
Tricia 01/06
 

August Eyes

August is a time of reflection and mixed feelings for me. You see my son ended his life on August 23rd, 1999, and here in Australia August aches with the knowledge that winter will soon be ending. Winter is my favourite time of the year, and yet spring is full of new beginnings. And so in August I see the world through different eyes. I was going to wait until next August to post this, but with Christmas on the doorstep I find I’m filled with August contemplations.

 
August Eyes
 
see with a darkly depth
wispy visions of might have beens
illuminating empty spaces
 
find solace
in crimson purple skies
lighting the coming of night
 
reflect white water
rolling onto the sand
kissing curled toes with icy foam
 
glisten with joyful rememberings
sun shining on golden hair
the scent of a hug
 
sparkle in the strengthening sunlight
that warms my face
with September expectations
 
Tricia Bertram   2008
 
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