By Grace Bizzarro
I couldn’t bear to place you in the
cold ground.
To leave you in that silent lonely
park.
I wanted you to be here close
beside me.
For a while, till spring brought
the lark.
I’ll scatter your ashes at the
ocean.
In the sea where you wanted to be.
The breeze traveling east from the
shore-line
leaves a kiss on my cheek from
thee.
EMOTIONS
By
Grace Bizzarro
Before
the sorrow comes the anger.
The
raw red nerves, the urge to fight.
You
rail against your God and wonder if heaven exists.
You
curse your plight.
You
blame him for leaving.
For
all the confusion.
You’re
out of control now.
A
bird lost in flight.
In
time the compassion of
mourners
will comfort you
You
pray in contrition.
and
cry through the night.
By Grace Bizzarro
“Come meet Jerry,” they say
or Arnold or Sam.
I’m alone and not lonely I answer.
I’d rather stay here, where I am.
don’t need someone to hold my hand.
I know they mean well
still they don’t understand.
Though I know in my heart
what they say is all true.
They’re wasting their time.
There’s no replacement for you.
GOLDEN BOY
By Grace Bizzarro
Johnny is gone. I miss him so.
His shy sweet smile and warm hello.
“Good night Mom.” as he went
upstairs.
I always answered, “John, say your
prayers.”
Pictures and cards bring a memory
Of the Golden boy who is lost to
me.
Did we say enough, or try too hard?
Were there hidden sighs we couldn’t
see?
When he did reach out was it just
too late
for the Golden boy who is lost to
me.
GRIEF
By
Grace Bizzarro
Grief
comes with a casket and baskets of flowers laying on the ground
in
a cemetery weary of winter and shed tears.
It
comes when laughter ceases and hands that once held yours grow cold.
It
comes on gray days when the pungent smells of stew for two
no
longer waft on air to stir your senses.
It
comes between linen sheets in a cold bed where the warmth
of
an embrace and a kiss used to bid you good night.
It
comes on Sunday mornings with the Times.
Shared
breakfast, the interchange of ideas and gentle disagreements
are
no longer possible.
Grief
comes to you with all these memories and stays and stays.
SO
QUICKLY
By
Grace Bizzarro
So
quickly you left me.
We
didn’t say farewell.
No
tender last kiss.
No
warning death knell.
Better
than suffering,
laying
and waiting
for
Angels to take you
away
from my arms.
I’ll
do all my crying,
till
time heals my sorrow.
The
wishing and longing
to
hold you once more.
SUNDAY
By Grace Bizzarro
I manage through each lonely day
that passes since you went away.
Except Sunday.
Weekends were our time of rest.
The one sweet day I loved the best
Was Sunday.
The rendezvous beneath the quilt.
you wore nothing. I wore silk.
Breakfast in our marriage bed.
Steaming coffee, Vienna bread.
Worship, we were there at ten.
Picked up the papers and home
again.
Dinner, candlelight, and wine.
Sparkling crystal, china fine.
Evening walk in Woodland Park.
Rush to get home just at dark.
Light the fire, it’s almost seven.
An evening spent in leisure heaven.
Then to sleep within your arms.
Free from worry, safe from harm.
From Monday to Saturday weeks drag
by.
My tears well up.
I only cry on Sunday.
UNDERSTANDING
By
Grace Bizzarro
Traveling
through this vale of tears
I
meet my mother and friends I knew.
I
didn’t always understand.
I
saw death from another view.
Only
as a soul departed.
One
who would never return.
Now
I’m the one left broken hearted.
To
mourn alone and yearn.
VISION
By Grace Bizzarro
I see you most of my waking hours.
In each room your picture
by a bouquet of flowers.
In the garden in summer
where we passed our days.
By the hearth in the winter.
Through the Autumn haze.
When I leave this earth,
and my days are few.
If I reach Heaven
will I still find you?
WIDOWS
WALK
By
Grace Bizzarro
Show
me the way to the widows walk
Where
I’ll travel alone
For
a time, unknown.
I’ll
drag my grief, lost hope and fears
Along
that path of sorrow and tears.
Show
me the way to the widows walk
Where
I’ll spend each lonely day
Show
me the way to the widow’s walk
For
my sweet heart has passed away.