This grief poem is about living and seeking while keeping the sacred secrets that only the heart could hold. Loss is, well, the worst, but there’s something to live for still: you find it in the darkness. Maybe, it’s a way through this. Maybe, it’s something more than you could've ever dreamed of.

“I always believed that whatever had to be written would somehow get itself written.” – Seamus Heaney

This poem is about feeling both lost and found at the same time, somehow, because your heart knows something that you just can’t. You’re both in the dark and pledged to the light. You ask a lot of questions, but you try not to get swallowed up in the answers.

That’s kind of what grief feels like to me.

If feels like giving up fighting and going out searching, and maybe then, after all that, coming home to yourself.

When we encounter the broken parts of ourselves, may we have the courage to not turn away.

Lost and Found Again, a Grief Poem

Grief is not my burden to bear,

but an anchor in love that I’ve learned

to lower gently in a sea of despair.

Thrown over with haste, too sure,

and I am thrown too.

I am humble when I hold it.

I let it take my rage and turn it into perfume.

It’s a secret peace treaty that I signed

with the moon.

Otherwise, the tides would throw me too.

Oh, how I dream of listening to you.

Walking back, no shoes,

I feel you in each step.

Still, I can’t touch your face,

no matter how many years I have left

to walk.

I feel so lost,

so found with each breath.

I almost don’t know

how to live without what I’ve known

because it just stays with me

wherever I go.

I wouldn’t wish to change that—no,

not anymore.

I don’t wish for the unlived life

when I already have one to live.

Some days, I admit,

I would like to walk out the door,

go looking for traces of you.

Maybe, I’d find more.

Or even, something entirely new.

So, if you ever come looking for me,

but I’m somewhere out in the world,

I hope you’ll stay awhile.

Be patient with me.

I might be honoring my treaty

with the moon, but

I left a candle

in the window

of my heart

so I could find my way

back home.

. . .

Tell me:

Which part of this poem did you need to read today?

Tell me in the comments. I read every single one, and I'd love to know.

With love,

Jen

P.S. Need more light today? See what else I've written about loss and possibility. You might find exactly what you need.