| By brian francis Here I stand beside your grave, unwilling to release you still. Remembering you, hauntingly clear, smelling you, and feeling you close. The chill of fall is upon me, damp and cold, are these lonely nights I find myself tending our memories, tending them like a garden; nurturing them with my tears. Listless and sorrow-filled I wonder through yesteryear, cherishing what I had once been: whole, happy, united with you Now here alone in the drizzle I stand beside your grave. Blinded with grief, longing release, wanting to follow you, to find where you are hiding- to embrace you just one more time. Copyright © 2021 brian francis |
Tag: loss
Wildfire
By brian francis
Where chimneys rise above the ash
to stand in ordered rows,
where fire’s dance engulfed the homes
destroying all one owns.
Where tears shed, streak and flow,
ashen mascara on the face.
Images enchant, playing in the mind
of another time in this place.
Trees who once bore crowns of leaves
a home to squirrels and birds;
only tortured twisted skeletons remain,
crying wind, the only thing heard.
in ashen heaps, sorted for some pearls
Everything stained by fires touch,
loving hands grasp at memories inspired
by the loss of so, so very much.
The rising odor that pervades it all
a smell like that of Hades’ gates.
The sullen mood, shoulders slumped,
the lost souls clinging to their mates.
The smolder burns and chokes the throat,
words can not seem to be found.
A lifetime lost to the raging flames
drift in ashes dancing on the ground.
Copyright © 2020 brian francis
Providence
By brian francis
Oh his cloths are torn and ragged
And his face is worn and grey
He does not look into your eyes
Instead he turns away
He makes you feel uncomfortable
Just seeing him around
He doesn’t ask for handouts
But he doesn’t turn them down
He once wore ties and leather shoes
And drove a fancy car
He once went home to a child’s arms
And wished upon a star
But everything that comes can go
And everything that lives can die
And every man with happiness
Can soon learn how to cry
He sits there in the summer’s heat
And shivers through the winter’s cold
A shadow of the man he was
Lost deep in despair’s hold
Copyright ©2020 brian francis
Afterlife
| By brian francis If someone would have told me how hard it would be to wake up every day without you by my side. Or if I had simply realized, the depth of the pain The despair I’d endure no matter how I tried maybe I would have been ready for the loss of that day and the ensuing masquerade: “I’m alright.” the pain endured months and years still an open wound still a veil of tears shed alone in the night I know their good intentions those who’ve loved us both I’ve felt the warmth of their love everyday but nothing could replace you or heal this broken soul not the tears I shed or the words I pray Copyright ©2020 brian francis |
This Valley of Despair
| By brian francis With every day I wake at dawn Remembering that you are gone. And life by nature must go on, So my tears wash away the loss of you. Coffee still warms my soul Starting out a new day. The rituals remain unchanged, Yet, wholly different. The birds still sing their songs; Their pitch, too sharp it seems. And the shadows of the oaks still creep across the lawn, but, I do not see them in the same way. somehow my heart is missing and out of touch. somehow I am floating in a strange place all alone– even, while others dart around me concernedly trying to do their loving part in filling the void. When at night I sit alone, waiting for bed, I find myself spending time wondering. Drifting through memories of you. Maybe filling the void is how I should think. Can you fill a black hole? But then worry of forgetting haunts me. Your face your smile the sound of your laugh. I will no longer hear these, I know! Yet, at times it seems to echo From the walls that surround me. I am still missing you with every breath… Copyright ©2020 brian francis |
Together in Spirit
| by brian francis Time has passed since you’ve gone Life just isn’t the same. I sit alone to watch the dawn, yet, your memories remain. The path now seems more uphill, the pace now slowed to a walk. Your face, your touch I remember still. Oh, just to hear you talk. My time has come to walk alone Yet, your presence I still feel. In the memories of life we’ve sown Our love is still so real. Copyright ©2020 brian francis |
