God was absent then or in some other place

When he went away
He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”
Do vstrechi.
He died, but I’m still here
Yes,in my heart I feel his love.
But why did I live,
And he did not?
Auf wiedersehen
Yes,darling,I’ll see you later
,When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright
I’ll see you shining in the night.
I’ll see you in my dreams alas.
Do vstrechi.
But why you and not me too?
I can’t understand
A plus tard
Some where in this world,you fell
But no-one,not even God, can tell.
God was absent then or in some other place
He’s gone again
.They said He’s died too
,But He didn’t have a mother like you.
Do vstrechi.
My breasts ache and my heart and soul,
My breasts were made to make you whole.
To feed, give love and to console.
A plus tard
And now they ache with grief as my tears fall
.A bientot
My body trembles in the night
As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.
A plus
I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain
If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.
Do vstrechi
.The bell rings on the ancient clock
As time goes on as normal,  never stops.
I wish the hands of time could be reversed,
And I was not living with this curse.
People forget that I once had a son.
They think my grieving has been done.
Araka.But grief and loss and pain will never end
Until the curtain of my death descends
Auf wiedersehen.
Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees
,But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.
The inscape of my heart is shown to few.
An artist of the lost would know this view.
I know I want to see just you.
Do vstrechi.
But for me there is noAuf wiedersehen
Never again will you say
What you said that day
A plus tard
Tot ziens.
See you later
See you ,darling
See you soon

I ache to dream of them while I’m asleep.

My own art

Tersa Rima

I was almost drowned  by deep,dark  grief
I have wept  at home and wept abroad.
I lost my early childhood to these deaths

I have  known grief  spread like rivers wide
I ‘ve been  wracked  by   painful spasms of  tears
I have felt the absence of  my God.

I’ve known grief for  more than sixty years
My father and his brother were the first
I have met no  being who’s been spared.

Yet we have no permission  here to weep
I long for ritual like  my writer’s pen
I ache  to dream of them  while I’m asleep.

Like a fox hides in a hole or den
I would like to hide  when day begins
Uncontained  by  his love  again

As a tree mourns for each little leaf
As God mourns his human life so brief
I have been demolished  by  wild grief
I have  seen lost ghosts, yet still believe

The only ritual

The ritual is to put the garbage out
My day begins the night before it’s due
When I recall the day, I have to count
Instead of Mass, we put the garbage out
No Confession so no sin,no horrid doubt
No neighbours and no prayer,no ancient pew
The only ritual left, toss garbage out
My mind begins to think about the clue