•I Am Still Here:
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
— Inspired by Mary Elizabeth Frye
•The Hollowed-Out Heart:
The sun has paled to a fractured grey,
Since you took the light, that final day.
The world is quiet, yet screams with loss,
Counting up the bitter, broken cost.
Here is a poem about the passing of a loved one that left the person destroyed:
My heart is shattered, a ruin, a wreck,
With tears like ice upon my neck.
A crushing weight was left behind,
Vanquished, sealed by fate's design.
A ghost of the past,
Lost at sea, built to last.
No peace, no hope, just echoes now,
Destroyed by death, don't know how—
To breathe, to exist, in this shattered place,
Where nothing fills your absent space.
The fabric of my life is torn apart,
A hollowed-out, broken-hearted heart.
•The light went out when you were gone,
But darkness came before the end.
You broke the heart I relied upon,
And shattered every hope to mend.
You took the joy, you stole the peace,
And left a wreck where love had been.
Your final, cruel, and cold release
Just finished what you did within.
Now silence echoes in the hall,
A hollow space, a ruin gray.
I stand amidst it, standing tall,
Wondering what will fill the day.
I mourn the ghost of who I was,
Before you ruined everything.
Destroyed by you, without a cause,
And now, uncertain what life will bring.
•The Empty Chair:
The world continues turning, spinning slow,
And morning light still paints the quiet room,
But now the silence speaks of where you go,
A sudden, aching, unexpected gloom.
I reach for you, to share a passing thought,
And find the space where laughter used to be,
A lesson in the emptiness you brought,
A shattered, broken, silent mystery.
The waves of sorrow crash upon the shore,
And tear away the comfort I had known,
I wait to hear you walking through the door,
And feel the weight of standing all alone.
But in this void, I hold your memory tight,
A gentle warmth amidst the coldest air,
You are the stars that guide me through the night,
And the love that lingers in the empty chair.
#Sending❤️🫂🙏
Experiencing the loss of a loved one can be profoundly isolating, and poetry often becomes a refuge where feelings find voice and comfort is sought in the shared human experience of grief. For me, reading and writing poems like these—especially "I Am Still Here"—has been a way to hold on to memories and to find presence in absence. The poem's imagery of being a thousand winds or sunlight gently reminds me that those we lose transform, becoming parts of the natural world that we continue to encounter. The other verses, such as "The Hollowed-Out Heart" and "The Empty Chair," poignantly depict the raw pain and emptiness left in grief's wake. They speak to the shattered feeling of facing a world forever altered, helping me acknowledge that anger, sorrow, and confusion are valid steps in healing. I’ve learned that sharing such poems with others who understand loss can create a silent companionship—even when words fail to capture the exact depth of emotion. What resonates deeply with me from these poems is the reminder that grief is not linear. Some days feel as if darkness has engulfed all hope, as articulated in "The light went out when you were gone," while other moments reveal gentle warmth, much like "the love that lingers in the empty chair." This duality keeps me holding space for all emotions and encourages embracing the ongoing journey rather than rushing toward closure. If you are navigating loss, I encourage you to find poems or create your own expressions. It may feel daunting at first, but articulating your inner world provides a quiet healing that can complement traditional support. Remember, as the poems highlight, those we mourn remain present in many forms—within us and in the world around us. Through poetry, we keep their memory alive, finding meaning and peace amid sorrow.
