Tag Archives | grief

Happy Birthday, Bro

I woke at four this morning, and with night around me, the dark, quiet fields outside, I wrote for a little while. A couple of poems came out: one about the sleek black kitten who lives in the house we’re house-sitting on a hobby farm in Alberta, another to my brother whose birthday is today. […]

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Circles and Loops

Grief is not linear. It does not come in stages. It loops back, squiggles forward, circles and dips. Like everyone says (everyone who’s been there, I mean), it comes in waves. Buried in novel revisions, focused on creating, I’ve been doing okay. But then I hit send to deliver my manuscript to my agent, looked […]

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A Poem for Solstice

Winter Solstice, 3:34 p.m.    Outside, I notice the light spread on white snow, like buttercup   petals on the skin of your chin, those childhood   games that pass so quickly by.   Night is coming and all day   I’ve been thinking of the boats you used to carve,   of the one […]

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Five Weeks

I’ve been busy all week working on my book and assorted other projects; the grief comes and goes. It’s been almost five weeks, but I think actually that part of me is still in denial that my brother is GONE. But they say that, don’t they? That it takes a year of passing through the […]

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