Bereavement Stories

as the soft birdsits gently on her smoothpatient eggseven so my handrests on your tiny lifeless head

I stood on the bridge;the hand in my pocket holding thewatch you gave me before you died.it sat there alone in its perspiringwomb. the dark was more thannight; it squeezed through mypores. the glass grinned sheepishly, like a drunken mourner, and the numbersfell about likehailstones; but it was the hands that lifted an Accusing finger. as I looked down, a darker Me thanI looked up,and made me see that it wasIwho had empti...

She sits alone in the turgiddarkness, her swollen breastsfull as a gourd, empty assin; missing his boneless gums. She weeps, but no tearscome; she is dry as tumble-weed. Herbelly opens like a Venus fly-trap tocapture one of those wrinkled little bodies, but there is no goingback. The darkness has takenhim.The mirror throws back a cowering dwarf, leering and grim. Her face peekstimidly from behind hishump. She can think of...

Free-wheeling down the lanes of lifeWe seldom think about the end of the roadThat comes so often so swiftly Before we can reactOr understand whyWhen there is no reason whyIt just isLifePassing byPassing awayLosses we feel and know others are feelingBecause it is a universal anguishTo be bereaved And grieve. They leave us, oh, so soonBefore we have time to touch themTo tell themTo let them really knowHow much we careThat t...