Photography © Jennifer Gurney

 

I Am An Onion – Peeling Back the Layers of Grief

these early days
my shell is newly cracked
my wings are drying, still
and I have not yet
found my wings

***

my skin is so thin
you can see right through me
heart that is bleeding
bones that are brittle
the weight of new grief

***

in the sunshine
every early morning
in the ripples on the lake
concentric and whole
you visit me

***

time is diaphanous
trailing behind, before
around, within
nothing claims my attention
except for remembering

***

I rage
against the night
coming for you
stealing your breath
a heartbeat away

***

Dear Yankee Candle,

regarding your slogan
“happiness is guaranteed”
you might want to rethink that one…

signed, someone grieving who just bought one of your candles and it arrived from Amazon in a box with your slogan emblazoned across it … just saying

***

watching a movie we once watched
I stand to dance
arms lifted overhead
reminding myself
how to dance

***

the candle
burns no longer
but your light
still shines
bright

***

a crystal clear
memory from a decade ago
but am I forgetting
what his voice sounded like
rollercoaster of grief

***

pushing the shopping cart
his voice calls to me from
the next aisle over
his funny
echolocation

***

the sweet scent
of your cake baking
reminds me
it’s your birthday
butter brickle

***

turning the page
on grief
July
if only
it were that easy

 

Jennifer Gurney lives in Colorado where she teaches, paints, writes and hikes, not in that order. She has written all her life, but just recently has begun to write somewhat decent poetry. Jennifer wrote crap poetry in high school, love-sick drivel. Luckily she had the good sense to toss that out several decades ago when she was moving. At 61, she’s finally lived enough life, and suffered enough loss, to write like a poet. Or at least one whose poems read like a dream leaking onto your pillow in the middle of the night.