A bit of grief

June 21, 2022 by Rochelle Del Borrello in regret, Dreams, Loss and bereavement, Motivation, Poetry, Creative inspiration, Experimental, survival, creative writing, memento mori, Difficult reading, power of words, Difficult writing

I know a bit of grief.

It's the moment you realise

you cannot go back on your steps

to make it better

or say I love you again

see someone's face every day,

hear their laugh, trace the outline of their smile,

hold their hand or hug them.

When you learn what it feels like to run out of time.

No more silent pauses in conversations

seeing them across the table,

passing the salad bowl at dinner.

All of those moments you take for granted

stop in your mind,

they are gathered up in memories

and the grieving begins.

I've learnt grief isn't bad,

it's all we have, really,

for our tears are our love

which used to go out

towards those we love.

After they are gone, it has nowhere to go,

so our unexpressed love

becomes our grief.

And as our passion is as undying,

as our mourning.

This strange sadness will never leave

not until our dying days.

It comes over us in the most unlikely moments

in the tiny flickers of memories

the flutter of butterflies

a microscopic movement is enough the overcome us.

Sometimes it's like a tap that

we need to open to let the pressure out.

But mostly, grief is a dark veil that wraps around

our hope, our happiness and faith

and covers our organs which

find they have an extra weight to carry

the resistance makes it harder to breathe

love and move forward when we don't

want to.

It may seem ironic

but I hope we never

stop grieving

because it keeps our

dearly departed near us.

Life doesn't stop

when someone dies,

it merely shifts

and changes into another

gear and somehow

we live with it.

The stuff of cemeteries

May 17, 2022 by Rochelle Del Borrello in Creative inspiration, Difficult reading, Difficult writing, Dreams, Experimental, Loss and bereavement, memento mori, Motivation, Poetry, power of words, regret, survival, Words

When life becomes a thing of cold hard marble.

When your touch feels the chill

of placing your hand on a tomb.

Searching for warmth and another's touch

when nothing is left but the emptiness of absence.

That is when grief is in your heart.

The chill remains with you every day

I was lucky to have you,

hold you.

Be in your company because this moment is

ever so brief and precious.

You can never hold onto anything

just the love in our hearts

which echoes and reverberates through

bereaved souls.

When things become the stuff of cemeteries and funerals

when the touch of cold marble tombstones

are little consolation against the heat of fresh grief.

When death falls all around you

then that is the time to stop and breathe

hold onto the ones you love

it is impossible to say goodbye

so make memories

search out happiness and

follow what gives you the spark

which is life itself.

Death's garden

October 12, 2021 by Rochelle Del Borrello in Affirmations, creative writing, Difficult reading, Difficult writing, Loss and bereavement, Words, memento mori

The idea came to commemorate my dearest ancestors

by planting them a garden.

Lavander sprigs for stillborn Estella.

Delicate violets from Nonna’s garden.

An all-enveloping ivy that covers and embraces

everything for Nonno.

Daddy would be an aubergine flower as that's

what he left for us in his garden.

Mum will be an exotic caper flower after she is gone.

I will plant them on my skin,

they will slowly grow up my arm

and cover my body in death's garden.

Added to with every loss

I choose a new plant to sow

for my family and friends

and add to the artwork

with each ghost.