Don’t look back
At least, not today
I know the memories
Drift about your mind
And fill the space behind
Your eyes
But go forward
Not back
You are alive
You have a future
Time
Is always marching on
Diane E. Dockum
©June 8, 2024
Grieving
I Am the Ghost
I am the ghost That haunts this house Unfinished things are all about I’m searching for your missing soul The other half of mine is gone I am the presence In this house That drifts from room to room Untethered like a lost balloon With slender thread that dangles down I am a shadow Of myself Imprinting on the empty wall Inspecting places high and low Searching for you everywhere I am the wisp Of mist and pain Following in your wake Grief is love that has no place I dream to see your face. By Diane E. Dockum ©April 18, 2023
This poem was inspired not only by my own grief for my late husband, Dennis, but from a poem by Donna Ashworth entitled You’re the Ghost from her book ‘I Wish I Knew’.
Coming To Terms With Yourself
A day will come when Finding yourself alone You will come to terms With your true self You’ll come to the mirror And welcome your face And be kind to the person You see in your reflection A time will come when You’ll grow to understand The value of your own friendship And the wisdom of your own advice You’ll curl up in a comfortable chair With a cup of forgiveness, and a good book You will read it a while Then turn out the light. By Diane E. Dockum ©April 28, 2014 Reposted April 9, 2023
It Was Something
It was something So delicate A balance sublime Intricate lace woven Over time It was something You said With your eyes That reached my soul It was something Waiting just over My window sill A bird that lit upon my open hand It was something On the edge of my mind A tease of pleasure Glowing behind clouds Beyond my reach now It was something It really was As I recall By Diane E. Dockum ©September 16, 2021 Posted April 6, 2023
Other Voices in the Room
OTHER VOICES IN THE ROOM – The absence of –. The hours pass. Artificial sound becomes A crutch of sorts In the waiting rooms In this house of ours Where you are not –. Where you are no more Yet are So much here –. You are here with me In the echoes of my thoughts And my footsteps on the stairs. You are behind me With your hand on the Small of my back As we climb to our bed And listen to Bedtime stories on the Artificial app, And as we drift off to sleep Those other voices in the room Fade into the absence of your Body and The hours pass. ©Diane E. Dockum Thursday, June 9th, 2022
Seventh Month
Rolled over for a cuddle Forgot I was a widow Swear I felt you Get in bed last night Could almost hear you breathing But then the sun came up Only to expose the pile of pillows On your side of the bed
The sun has come and gone Thirteen times this week The sound in my ears Is the vibration of the earth In the quiet of the day It reaches a high pitch When darkness comes And I pull the curtains closed
Today the frozen rain Hits my windows hard I try not to eat too much But wander from room to room Without getting anything done Your closet is still full of shirts I cannot bear to pack And dust is gathered in your shoes
You’re never coming back Oh, by the way I eat in the kitchen now Instead of the living room sofa Watching television It makes me feel like a person With a place mat and silverware In the correct places January 9, 2022 ©Diane E. Dockum
Grief expressed
In times of personal or collective grief our words roll around inside us, welling up. Visions of those departing, or already passed fill our minds. Sometimes there is so much feeling that we cannot express it all. I comes out in pieces, a little at a time, over many years. 10 years ago, the world changed. However it affected you, I know you will always remember where you were, and what you were doing. We grieve, we try to heal our hearts. We must go on.
Departing
It happens slowly
In pieces
Like a sand castle
Crumbling against
The gentle lapping
Of the river
It first folds in
Upon itself
Then leans
And falls
Obliterated
Until
There is
No trace
Marble Hill Press 