I long to be close to
where your beating heart
was among its last beats.
I sit on the couch where
we spent your last night —
but cannot bring myself
to be on the cushion where
life was fading from you
and you laid against me.
I didn’t sleep, for vigilance
you didn’t sleep, for pain —
so tired, so dazed, so lucid
so knowing, so loved —
so gone.
—Terri Guillemets
Hummingbird mama
abandons her nonviable eggs —
but keeps checking back
a few more times, just to be sure.
An arm falls from a sickly saguaro
and breaks open on the ground
like a prickly green eggshell —
after decades of desert still-life
a few seconds of death-motion.
But the night breeze is so beautiful
those breezes are — so beautiful
it’s hard not to get swept away.
—Terri Guillemets
In my mind —
I’ve tried a million
times to go back
to that day —
tried to change
my choices
begged a do-over
from the universe
I’ve crippled myself with
guilt
sorrow
thrashing the quicksand
sinking in
layers of grief
fighting a sticky web
trapped in
regret-regret-regret
I don’t even care about
my own
broken heart
I’m sorry
I broke yours
—Terri Guillemets
grieving makes us stronger —
it gives us a spirit of grace
and the grace of spirit
our hearts feel weaker
but living past loss is
the ultimate courage
we honor our loved ones
by living on despite —
and all the more because
—Terri Guillemets
the shadows are falling the same as they were last year
the early summer calm sounds the same as it did last year
as it did at this same time last year, when the babies died
when the babies died, and the mama grieved for days
—Terri Guillemets
We picked up your ashes today
when I look at them, I see bone
when I close my eyes
— I see light
Something like an invisible hand
raises my lowered chin
— “Keep looking up”
Was that your gesture? or God’s?
I loved you on earth
and I love you beyond
— Welcome home
—Terri Guillemets
Death is never a clean break — some stardust always remains.
—Terri Guillemets