HELPING THROUGH THE GRIEF - Page 30
"There is no grief which time does not lessen and soften."
Cicero
April 19, 2004
LIFE AND DEATH
The sun's rays filter through the leaves to my small face
I sit there in my hidden little secret place
I think of all these bad happenings of his case
Leaning against this oak tree's solid trunk - its base
I wonder about the small child wrapped in lace
All I do is wait
I wait for the sun to rise
I wait for mothers' relieved, kind and gentle sighs
I ponder on why God does nothing - the babe dies
In desperation and distress the family cries
They wait for God to remove the terrible lies
Surely the young thing would be allowed to survive
Clearly the little baby ought to be alive
With his last strangled breath, that was the fatal dive
His brand new soul had been destined not to revive
And all because he had clutched that lethal beehive
Tears sting my eyes and I am happy for this day
I am alive, and I will never cease to say
As long as you are alive, life will be okay
There is always hope and always another way
Don't be scared and all evils will be kept at bay
Written by Anonymous, Age 12 --- Australia
I am sorry I can't reveal my name, too young to put it on the net; I wrote this in March 2004 when I was 12 1/2 and had moved from my home to another country and was trying to adjust to the very different culture and language.
April 19, 2004
"Life is too short so live it before it ends!"
Author Unknown
Submitted by Reyishie C.,--- AP, India
April 19, 2004
"Trust thyself; every heart vibrates to that iron string."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Submitted by Cara O'Brien --- Florida
April 19, 2004
Why has the world grown so cold?
Every time I speak no one hears me
And every time I move no one sees me.
I think of ending this misery,
And saving myself from this horrid life,
But I fear no one will notice when I'm gone.
I'm a lost little child
Yearning for someone's guidance,
But falling along the way and ending up in darkness
Which for some strange reason feels safe.
I don't know where to go from here.
I've been gone for so long,
Unable to find myself,
And afraid of what I might find when I do.
It's a bitter reality to be faced
With the fact that this world will be fine without me.
Sometimes I think if I wait long enough
Someone will catch a tiny glimpse of what I can do.
But those delusions are only dreams
Lost in a far off world.
My life is a cliche.
Everyone's heard my story
And passed me by like a pebble on a sandy beach.
My heart has been trampled over
Like grass in a field,
And never really been able to mend itself.
What is to become of this pathetic life?
I live in my world.
A world that would seem impossible to most people,
But just seems like routine for me.
I live in this world
But I fear I will be stuck here forever.
For each day the darkness casts another blanket
Over my cold body
And makes is unbearable for me to move.
One day the sun will shine
And melt away my cold, miserable heart.
But for now I wait in the darkness,
Watch it consume me, destroy me,
But live with the hope that one day
Things will change...and I will be free.
Written in 2004 by Erienne A., Age 18
Sometimes I feel like the world doesn't know I exist, but I live with the hope that things will change. This poem I wrote has helped me get through the rough times and I thought it would help other people as well; to let them know they are not the only ones in pain.
April 19, 2004
"They are alive and well somewhere,the smallest sprout shows there is really no death."
George Washington Carver
April 19, 2004
"Death isn't easy to deal with, even when you weren't close to the person who died! But as a human, you hurt because you see the pain surrounding you!"
Written in 2004 by Brittney D., Age 15 --- Kentucky
Today I came to school and found out that a girl passed away last night! Even though I wasn't close to this girl, I still felt pain for everyone who was grieving. It isn't easy for me right now because I wish I knew why I feel so much pain, but I guess it's because I see the everlasting pain surrounding me.
April 19, 2004
THE STRANGER IN MY CLOTHES
Who is the stranger in my clothes?
The one who's hurting,
Who no one knows.
The person I live with day by day.
The stranger who won't go away.
The one who's angry,
The one who hates,
The one who the images annoy,
The one whose priority is to destroy.
Why won't they disappear,
All these Ghosts in the air?
What did I do, whom did I offend?
I'm scared; I don't want this to be my end.
When you look in the mirror
Who do you see?
Coz when I look,
I see a stranger who is not Me.
Copyright © 2004 Micky Sherwood
April 19, 2004
When she left, I cried;
No more pain, no more crying.
Why does Cancer have to exist?
She would still be here today,
With her family,
If she didn't have the terrible thing
Called "CANCER"!
Written in 2003 by Allyson H., Age 14 --- Illinois
I wrote this poem after my aunt died of cancer. My L.A. class was doing poems and I decided to write this one for my aunt. She had one of the worst cancers but she came stronger than anyone thought she would. I love my aunt and this poem is for her.
April 19, 2004
"The great paradox is that the mystery of death can teach us, here and now, how to fully appreciate and live life."
Copyright © 2004 Simon Heighwaya
I reckon that death can be our best friend and greatest teacher while we are alive. Knowing that we're not here forever should inspire us to enjoy the moment, to love. It should encourage us to loosen our grip on things and on life, to lighten up; to let go of our attachment to the past/expectations of the future. By contemplating the limited, uncertain time that we have we can really see how important it is to live NOW! To give, love, forgive, share, experience, laugh, learn, unlearn etc. before it's too late. In short, death helps us to remember what is essential in life and what's not!
April 19, 2004
"I would rather have 30 minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special."
Steel Magnolias (Julia Roberts)
Submitted by Sarah Hamby --- Georgia
April 19, 2004
"We laugh, we cry not knowing the half; to sigh, to smile knowing it all."
Copyright © 2003 Eveline Dashchi