Short poems from the 80s and 90s
Disenfranchised grief, that’s what it is called. The grief, the emotions, that require attention when a former partner dies. It’s different from others’ grief and can vary depending on how you left the relationship. I wrote about grief, ritual and lose of my former partner here. But today, I’m sharing poems I wrote about him or for him – his name was Mark – when I was in a relationship with him.
What is love?
What is love? I asked myself one day. But, I didn't know. I looked into the mirror and reflected was my soul. Frightened I turned to seek solace in my friend. But, he too was frightened.
A birthday wish for Mark
Society
flowers bloom in the spring,
listen closely,
hear the birds sing.
now it's fall
and like the flowers
you bloom into a new year
listen closely,
hear me sing -
Happy Birthday to you!
Reality
another year has gone by.
you have accomplished much,
now say goodbye.
you should welcome the new
year - but all you can do
is sigh.
Happy Birthday to you!
My love for you
my love for you is like: the wind, fleeting. the rain, pouring. a river, flowing. the Sun, burning. the Moon, quiet. a bird, fleeing. I am: afraid. happy, can we be? sad. joyous, moments are ours. glad, I met you. mad. confused. hurt.
Read the in-depth remembrance of Mark and about my experience of grief, which hasn’t disappeared overnight here.
Final notes: I came across this poem a few days ago from 1934, the year that Mark’s father Stuart was born. I’ve seen it before but decided to share it here. It was written by Clare Harner a journalist and published as Immortality in the December 1934 issue of The Gypsy poetry magazine.
Immortality
by Clare Harner
Do not stand
By my grave, and weep.
I am not there,
I do not sleep—
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.
Do not stand
By my grave, and cry—
I am not there,
I did not die.