Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems

Exploring the world of life and grief through poetry.

Category: Life Reflections

  • If I Could Dog-Ear a Day

    If I Could Dog-Ear a Day

    Title inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

    I’d mark the days when it was just the three of us,
    sitting around the glass-top table in your cozy Florida kitchen.
    Although one of five children,
    for those times, I was your only child,
    soaking up the sweetness of having you two all to myself.
    The click, click, click of the cards as we shuffled the deck
    for the many games of rummy we’d play.
    Sharing stories of your life, often heard, but always enjoyed.
    Mom, always bragging about being the
    rummy champion on Center Street as a child,
    was never a graceful loser but was always ready to start anew.
    Dad holding onto his cards to get the most points in a play,
    even if it meant losing big if one of us played the last card first.
    These simple everyday moments are treasures
    I hold onto when I miss you the most.

  • Relentless Appreciation

    Relentless Appreciation

    Finding Joy After Loss

    When the heart breaks open from the searing pain of
    unbearable loss and the walls crumble to the ground,
    the unimaginable happens:
    relentless appreciation for what is left behind.
    It streams from my soul with the force of a tsunami.
    My love for those I meet in person and online has grown,
    and I feel joy when I spend time in their presence.
    My soul is filled with peace as I traverse the garden path,
    captivated by the beauty of the flowering plants
    and the perfumed, soaked air they create.
    I watch the flying creatures with fascination as they busy themselves finding food and building homes.
    I love the sound of birdsong, whether I’m wandering outside
    or enjoying their symphony from inside my home.
    For knowing there is but a short time
    between birth and death, I breathe in deeply
    all that life has to offer me.

  • The Gift I Didn’t Ask For

    The Gift I Didn’t Ask For

    I sat slumped on the floor,
    the wrapping torn off the box.
    As I reached inside,
    I already knew that I didn’t want this present,
    but there was a no return policy stapled to the gift.

    Who was the giver that would lay
    such a heavy unwanted inheritance
    for me to carry with me
    as I wander the world for the rest of my days.

    The giver sits next to me,
    wrapping one arm around my shoulder
    as their other hand wipes away
    the tears that run down my cheeks.

    “Dear one,” they say,
    “I know that this present feels like a curse,
    and you’d rather that I’d disappear with it,
    leaving your world unshaken.”

    “But grief is interwoven with the love that preceded it
    like a finely knitted sweater.
    The tattered garment that you now possess
    is the love that remains.”

    I pulled the sweater to my heart,
    rubbing the holes that plague this once intact garment,
    knowing that my body will learn to adjust to the chill that the holes let in,
    while the rest of the sweater will warm me with your memories and love.

  • Meet Me Under The Blood Moon

    Meet Me Under The Blood Moon

    For Mike

    I wrestled the camera onto the tripod,
    preparing for the appearance of the blood red moon.
    I traipsed in and out of the house,
    making sure the camera base fit tightly to the stand,
    gathering extra batteries so I could capture the moment
    and adding layers of clothing
    to keep me warm from the bitter night air.
    Finally, everything was set,
    and I could enjoy the celestial drama.

    What I found as I tilted my head upwards in between shots
    was a wave of peace washing over me.
    On this day when you died thirteen years ago
    you felt so close in this otherworldly expanse of time and space.
    As the red shadow floated next to the dazzling moon
    it was like we were dancing in the sky.
    And though I can no longer feel your arms around me
    or hear you speak my name,
    at that moment, I knew that you were somewhere,
    just out of reach, watching over me from another horizon.

  • Letting Go, Finding Freedom

    Letting Go, Finding Freedom

    “Letting go is what keeps you alive.” Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, from “When Living on a Tiny Island.”

    I squeezed my hands so tight that my knuckles turned white,
    leaving red moon crescents imprinted on my palms.
    Hoping that I could stop time,
    and everything that lay ahead of me.
    How foolish to think that I had so much power.
    And yet, that was my habit,
    the insanity that I had always employed
    with no success.
    It took time to release my death grip,
    learning from the wisdom of others
    that the only influence that I possessed
    was over my own behaviors and thoughts.
    Frankly, my brain can still be
    the most dangerous neighborhood to visit.
    When I slowly let go of that which I couldn’t control,
    my body began to relax, and I could breathe again.
    I learned that love was holding people in my heart,
    no matter what our relationship was.
    Giving them the dignity to follow their own path
    freed me to follow mine.