My husband's poetry

Category: grief

  • Whispers

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    Sometimes, in the midst of something else A disembodied voice whispers – Trust, believe Maybe, my conscience, a parent, our daughter? It whispers, again – Trust, believe Cool breeze touches my cheek Whispers to the tree – Trust, believe 8-8-25

  • the crunch of haiku litter

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    in heat of summer last year’s harvest of brown leaves call remember me 7-25-25

  • haiku of the leaf

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    caught in the moment between release from the twig and tumbling to ground 8-8-25

  • Waiting

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , , ,

    beyond the door of our house I sit in the shade on my right a small table, a bottle of water, a notebook, a book of poetry, a book of prayers bright green moss cushions my feet birds call from the woods the Tourettes hum of distant traffic palms turned skyward I’m waiting for healing…

  • Frontlines

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Some nights, I’m hunkered down in the bottom of a muddy trench facing an enemy I cannot see. My finger on the trigger firing at no one, everyone, anyone just trying to survive. 7-15-25

  • Rhapsody in grief

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    songs of light strung across the sky fire reflected in the sea heartbeat drones on and on and on memories steeped in joy and pain no rules, no rhyme, no syncopated time rhapsody in blue and black grief played in mystic time songs of light strung across the sky 7-14-25

  • Evolution

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    whendid welearn to drown loseour feathersand fall from the sky 7-7-25

  • Aviary hymns

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    What is gone is not quite gone It lingers in the air ____ I’m searching for that first bird song Its memory somewhere deep inside Other birds sing in gardens But it’s never quite the same I’m searching for that first bird song Its memory somewhere deep inside ____ What is gone is not quite…

  • Beach trip, May 2025

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , , , ,

    Eons ago, we traded wings for speech and legs to run and now we spend eternity regretting our choice. ____ On our last trip to the beach pelicans flew single file off shore. Seagulls hung in the air waiting for food to drop; shiny grackles brazenly stole food from wagon stashes of tourists. An attractive…

  • Jasmine’s dogs

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Bobber lies on the couch next to me Hazel at my feet. Soon I’ll attach leashes to collars take them outside. Let them walk, defecate in the yard scent the trunk of trees. We mourn the empty loneliness together awaiting her return. I pet them on the head, thankful they don’t cry or talk. I…