Three bereavement poems

Three bereavement poems by Jean Harbour

August 7th 2017

Today is not the day, but even in the early dawn
I knew it as a day of change, of certainty
of things to come. That day was close.
Nurses worked with kindliness while
visitors inhaled the tension and departed.
But mostly I remember a day of whispering
and holding hands and tears.

From the bedroom window

This year’s display surpassed itself.
Early heat then unremitting rain
had seen to that.
Spring’s abundance passed and wisteria
bloomed again in second flush,
flimsy and fragile.
Blousy begonias outgrew their pots
and tottered over in the wind.
Discarded petals, like confetti,
flecked the path.
Purple dahlias bent over on their stems.
bowing and nodding respectfully.
All the while untended weeds carpeted the patio
in glorious green. In summer’s extravagance
frailty took you by surprise
and finally exceeded itself.

Afterwards

No breath on my cheek as I fall asleep
an empty space when I wake,
and now I walk the lane alone
hankering for the walks we shared.
The trees and grasses are the same,
the path’s still rutted and the birds still sing
but my hand seeks yours.
Sniffing in the undergrowth,
your dog skirts past the cemetery,
where you are without being there.

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