Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged candle, comfort, death, grief, hope, loss, Love, poem, Poetry, tenderness on May 17, 2019| 41 Comments »
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When we hurt,
grief wants nothing more
than to light a candle
and sit with us
in our keening.
.
If we look it in the eye
we’ll see
its soft depth
as it holds us tenderly
to the flame.
.
And when we’re ready
we’ll hold it in return
and watch the spiral
of warm smoke
rise to the sky.
.
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© 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
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Photo from Pixabay
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged death, grief, hope, life, light, loss, Love, poem, Poetry, spirituality, tears on July 14, 2018| 63 Comments »
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Late at night
after she washes her face
and slips from her dress
.
she becomes a teardrop
quaking with grief
on the tip of God’s tongue.
.
But there —
see how the light
shines through.
.
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© 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
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Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged childhood, death, Goldbug, grief, immortality, life, loss, Love, poem, Poetry, Richard Scarry, sorrow on May 25, 2018| 56 Comments »
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It was your favorite book,
the one with Goldbug*
hidden in every picture.
You’d turn the pages
and find him peeking
from the window of a car
or riding in the back
of a fire truck.
.
When you grew up
you had your own cars and trucks
and never failed to wave
and beep your horn
when you drove away.
.
A year ago today
you left this realm
but you are not gone.
I feel you standing next to me
as I water the grape ivy.
Your wind chime rings
when the air is perfectly still.
The little wooden cats
you carved for me
change position during the night.
Something invisible
tickles my arm.
.
You tell me in a dream
not to be sad
and you wave at me
from the windows of everywhere.
I wave back
and turn another page.
.
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© 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
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* from Richard Scarry’s – Cars and Trucks and Things that Go
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Cats carved by my late son, Arlie, when he was 8 or 9.
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged grief, loss, Love, poem, Poetry, sea, sorrow, spirituality, tears, wildflowers on March 4, 2018| 68 Comments »
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Grief does not tip-toe
it comes
on lead feet
leaving deep prints
in the earth
to collect our tears
and send them over-flowing
to the stream
that joins all sorrow
winding to the sea.
And in the walk-about
where we are left to keen
wildflowers bloom around
the weeping willow tree.
.
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© 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
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Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged corner, death, grief, loss, Love, poem, Poetry, son on January 2, 2018| 46 Comments »
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She pouts in a corner
it seems
the gods play rough
.
at times
crushing her breath
into a knot
.
pulling her head-first
through a barrel
of tear-salt
.
staining her face
with keens
shoulders wracked
.
it should have been me
I’m old
he was young.
.
She folds
into a corner
when the gods play rough.
.
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© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged death, grief, loss, Love, memories, poem, Poetry, power outage, storm, wind on September 21, 2017| 31 Comments »
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The lights blow out
and the room grows
starkly quiet
in the dark
.
except for the drip
drip
dripping
of a faucet and
.
those thoughts
she had ignored
now howling
like the wild
of the wind.
.
.
© 2015, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged Arlie, death, grief, heart failure, loss, Love, pendant, poem, Poetry, seagull, son, spirituality, transcendence, transformation on September 7, 2017| 80 Comments »
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I wear the old necklace
a gift from my son
.
he tells me
to stop saying
if only and should’ve
.
he bought it
with his pizza money
.
it was nobody’s fault
he says.
I want to believe
.
his heart was young
and vital then
.
he would’ve hated
the hospital with all
those tubes and machines
.
whenever I wore it
he was proud and happy
.
the coroner said
it was probably quick
which was a blessing
.
like a pewter seagull
soaring.
.
.
© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged ashes, death, loss, memorial, mountain, mountain climb, Mt. Rainier, poem, Poetry on August 10, 2017| 41 Comments »
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.
A simple thing
to scatter his ashes
one would think
but Mt. Rainier
will never be
the same.
.
© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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Image of Mt. Rainier from Wikipedia Commons
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Posted in Poetry 1980's, tagged Barbara Pierce Seibold, eruption, immortality, laughter, loss, Mount St Helens, Poetry, volcano on May 18, 2012| 34 Comments »
32 years ago today, Mt. St. Helens erupted in Washington State, killing 57 people, including one of my dearest friends, her husband, and her two young children. Barb was always full of laughter, always saw the funny side of life.
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The poem below was written shortly after her death:
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Mt. St. Helens on May 18, 1980
.
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(In memory of Barb Pierce Morris Seibold, 1947 – 1980)
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You laughed above the heads
of those who couldn’t see
your wings,
but those of us with vision
always flew along with you.
Even in the rain
you’d soar above the mud
with a smile and a wink.
.
But just this once
your takeoff was too slow.
St. Helens grabbed you
in her smoky claws,
and with one spicy belch
she burned your wings away….
.
I found a bird
the cat brought in,
buried it
in forget-me-nots.
I heard your laughter
rising from the dust
and then it flew
to the curlicue clouds.
.
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(c)1980, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
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For another “Barb” poem (written 2-1/2 months before she died): https://raindancepoetry.wordpress.com/2011/08/28/down-moon-river-on-a-cement-slab/
Click on image for more info.
Seasonings 