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Grief Poetry: On Stitching Things Together Again

Grief Poetry: On Stitching Things Together Again

Love inevitably leads back to love. That usually means sorrow is going to get thrown into the mix. Love, however, doesn’t stop. It may seem like it stops, but it morphs and flows; it’s powerful, eternal like that. This small collection of grief poetry is a reminder that “again” happens too.

“Your soul looks good in this light. Sure, it’s a little pale—it hasn’t seen the sun in a bit. But I see your translucence as a rare and trustworthy parable, for with your bared nerves and veins comes an inarguable reminder that life doesn’t give up when it gets dark.” — t. r. h. 

I know the darkness. So many of us do in our own ways. If you do, I honor you. I hope this is a space where you come to fill up on the light so you can help yourself first, and others naturally.

It’s when I was in the dark that I discovered my own light.

In the dark, I discovered that heaviness can feel so empty, and emptiness can feel so heavy. It’s because I stuck around that I stumbled across a different kind of truth: the weight is a sign that I’ve loved and the emptiness is a chance to start again.

Wherever you’ve been and whichever cracks in the sidewalk you’re growing from now, may these bits of grief poetry help you stitch things back together again, or for the first time, or just remind you that you’re here and that is still a miracle.

Life at all: such a miracle.

Grief Poetry: On Stitching Things Together Again

Grief leaves you hugging pictures,

Looking around you like everything has suddenly become

Such a moment-in-time miracle that you

Cannot turn away,

Not even from the pain and suffering.

— Gifts of Living


“Grief does not change you, Hazel. It reveals you.” — John Green, The Fault in Our Stars


You lived.

What more could I ask for?

— Life and That Is All


“When you are born, you are crying while everyone else is smiling. And when you die you are smiling, while everyone else is crying.” — Unknown


I have survived this storm, but don’t be fooled:

There is chaos left in my mind that I’ve yet to sort through.

I have been in the dark and I have come through, and

I know I am a star, but don’t let me fool you:

I am not done stitching my pieces together.

I am busy making constellations out of the mess

From which I grew.

I still need your help: that will be my glue.

— Patchwork


“You are incredibly good at helping others through the pain and darkness that you have experienced yourself.” — Unknown


The essence of what is broken

Always returns to wholeness, from which it

Never truly strayed.

— Back Home


I am learning to love the process of healing my broken heart. I’ve found that’s the only way to heal at all.


“There is nothing beautiful

about the wreckage of a human being.

there is nothing pretty

about damage

about pain,

about heartache.

What is beautiful is

their strength,

their resilience,

their fortitude

as they display an ocean of courage

when they pick through the wreckage of their life

to build something beautiful brand new,

against every odd

that is stacked against them.

— Nikita Gill, Wreckage

. . .

Tell me:

Which of these poems did you need to read today?

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

Trust the current that carries you.

With love,


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

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