She breathes heavy and deep.
Her eyes are finally closed,
And her weary spirit is finally at rest.
For years,
She nurtured the girl.
She cared for,
Watched over,
Encouraged,
And loved the girl with her whole heart.
Everything she did,
She did for the girl.
The girl always made her smile,
Made her joyful,
Made her life worth living.
But one day she grew weary.
One day,
She needed the girl to love her
With true selflessness.
She knew that the girl would cry.
She knew that the girl
Would fall apart
Because saying goodbye
Was the girl's greatest weakness.
She knew that the girl would do
What was best.
She knew that the girl would say goodbye
Because it was the right thing to do.
She didn't want the girl to cry
Or to be sad.
She wanted the girl to smile,
To laugh,
To dance like she did when she was little.
She wanted the girl to remember
How she used to be.
She wanted the girl to look back
And reminisce on their brightest moments
And fondest memories.
She could not tell the girl these things,
So she nuzzled her head against the girl's hand
And laid beside her one last time.
When she woke up the next morning,
She tried to follow their steady routine
Because she wanted to help the girl believe
That everything would be okay.
She stayed strong for the girl
Until the very end.
And when it was time to say goodbye,
The girl held her close,
Stroked her ears and whispered,
"I love you, now fly with the angels."
✩ Author's Note ✩
This poem was not supposed to be part of this collection because it did not exist until last night. Today, my sweet dog, Sadie, went to the angels. I have not edited this poem very much, nor do I plan to edit it more. I believe in the power of raw vulnerability, and I cannot shake the feeling that I have to share this poem in this collection.
It is not the most beautiful poem I've ever written. It is rough around the edges and flawed in many ways. But it captured what I needed to capture last night.
I know the risks of posting unpolished writing. One of my old professors would be rolling his eyes if he knew that I was doing this right now. He would tell me to wait and write this piece when the grief is less fresh, less raw, less potent.
But that freshness, that rawness, that potency, is exactly why I write. My emotions are processed through the written word, and sometimes I share that with others.
With you.
I don't know if posting this poem right now is the smart decision, but it is the decision I need to make. Regardless of whether this poem really works in this collection, I want to share it with you.
I know that God can make miracles happen through our vulnerabilities and grief. I don't know if He will work out miracles with this little poem, but sharing it is one of the ways I am finding peace.
I hope that this poem, which is much more fresh than any of the others in this collection, helps you find your own healing by showing you that to carry our ghosts we must first accept them.
And, in the words of Taylor Swift, this is me trying.
⋆˖⁺‧₊Bree₊‧⁺˖⋆
YOU ARE READING
We All Carry Ghosts
PoesíaThis poetry and short prose collection is for the lost girls: the girls who want to know that someone understands; who wonder what it would be like to go back to Neverland, if only for a moment; who don't know how to let go of the childhood that has...
