Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems

Exploring the world of life and grief through poetry.

Category: Poetry

  • 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.

  • Extraordinary Power of Everyday Moments

    Extraordinary Power of Everyday Moments

    For Mike

    Because love is about the small everyday moments that we share,
    the pain of your absence was especially severe in
    the early minutes, hours, days, months and years after you died.
    The song you wrote that first captured my heart.
    How I fit so neatly into your embrace,
    especially in the mornings when we met in the kitchen for breakfast.
    The way that you shaved my legs when my pregnant
    belly made that task an impossibility.
    Your words of encouragement when I’d try something new,
    believing in me when I didn’t have faith in myself.
    How we were partners in running the house,
    each bringing our special talents so no one carried all the weight.
    You were my companion in parenting our kids,
    never shying away from dirty diapers or vomiting children.
    Even wringing out the cloth diapers that had been soaking
    in bleach before putting them in the wash.
    Being my person to run things by, even if I knew what I wanted to do.
    It was nice not to have to make every decision alone.
    The way that only you could wash the laundry,
    so that the clothes felt just right.
    Going to concerts together.
    Quiet evenings at home watching our favorite shows.
    The sense of humor and inside jokes we shared.
    The list goes on of these extraordinary ordinary moments
    that I miss so much about you.

  • 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.

  • When Grief Visits at 4 AM

    When Grief Visits at 4 AM

    The visitation times are posted,
    daytime hours only.
    Do not disturb grievers after 10 pm,
    for they need time to rest and recover
    But grief doesn’t respect the artifice of time,
    arbitrary schedules society places on when we’re allowed to grieve.
    “Love,” it says, “I know you’d rather be sleeping,
    and this is an inconvenient time to visit,
    but sit with me for a while.”
    So, I lie in bed,
    wrapped in my blankets,
    pull out my notes app and write you a letter.
    Tears snake down my face,
    a welcome release from the pain in my chest.
    And just like that, grief releases its hold,
    bids me goodnight and disappears into the ether.

  • 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.