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Death of a Loved One

In the Church, I met a woman quite old, Bending under the weight of years. I wonder what made her steal my attention. Was it her struggle to hold back her tears? Despite her frail stooping figure She seemed to have an indomitable will. Defeating all infirmities of age, she stood, With a face though sad, yet tranquil and still. Strange enough, she recalled to me, The determined but decrepit old man beside the pool Who Wordsworth had once encountered, Gathering leeches so scarce, but resolute and cool I watched the woman humbly prostrate, And feebly rise and straighten her aged form, Surrendering herself at the feet of God, Imploring grace for life’s little tasks to perform. In her gnarled hands, she firmly held a prayer book, With the other supporting her frail figure on a staff, And with a sigh of relief, she left the church, As if her afflictions were reduced to half. As the Congregation dispersed in all directions She feebly walked to her accustomed haunt. At the rear side of the church was a Cemetery unkempt, Where the ancestors slept, devoid of earthly cares and want. Among all the tombstones in marble and granite Erected in memory of the kindred dead, There was a newly dug up grave, That stood aloof as a heap of mud. I watched the old woman approach this spot, Where she knelt down with a calm demeanor. Her withered hands clasped together in piety, And her eyes closed in silent prayer. With a convulsive motion of her lips She rose and once more knelt down, As if searching for a face so dear Whose memory she could never ever drown. Within that mound, slept her only son, Who died in his prime, a month before, Leaving his widowed mother behind, To brave the shafts stinging, so sore. As Time by seconds and minutes ticked away The bereaved mother stood up at last, And heavily yet quietly walked away, Leaving the one who was once her own part. In sadness, her faith sheds light in her cloistered heart She has a calm assurance that though her son is gone, In another realm, free from all tribulations and pain He walks immortal in radiant bliss in the light of dawn! April. 4. 2023 ~ Placed Fifth~ Death of a Loved One Poetry Contest Sponsor- Unseeking Seeker

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Date: 4/6/2023 2:30:00 AM
- Congratulations on your win in the contest, Valsa :) - Happy Easter :) - hugs
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Date: 4/6/2023 1:58:00 AM
Lovely writing.. a beautiful, though chilling, story. God bless you and Congrats. Love, Gina
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Date: 4/5/2023 11:56:00 PM
I love the final two stanzas Valsa, very moving
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Date: 4/4/2023 5:59:00 PM
As a father who buried his first born son at the age of two... this resonates.... well observed. A.S.
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Date: 4/4/2023 12:21:00 PM
What a depressing tale, Valsa. You've done a wonderful job of bringing it to life:) Your story leaves an impression on people since it is inspired by real events. Having to bury one's own kid is an extremely terrible experience. Good luck with the contest
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Date: 4/4/2023 11:28:00 AM
- Burying one's own child must be painful - A heartbreaking poem, Valsa - Best wishes in the contest - Happy Easter :) - hugs
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Date: 4/4/2023 6:42:00 AM
What a heartfelt poem, thanks for sharing your wonderful gift with us all , in spreading love, wisdom, understanding and a better world.
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Date: 4/4/2023 6:06:00 AM
Your story makes an impact because it is true to real life. Sad story, but us mortals must face it. Best to you, Valsa.
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Date: 4/4/2023 1:48:00 AM
Such a sad story, Valsa, you picturised it perfectly:)
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Book: Shattered Sighs