The moments after


In those moments
on warm cotton thread sheets
that yield heat into my skin
cozy-ing my slumbered body
when I rouse, not from the pre-set
tune of yesterday or the days before
that sings out from my bedside phone
that disturbs my solitude
the time when daylight says wake up

in those moments, as blinking eyes
flicker, with tears that sting a little
I feel my heart rate quicken
my senses start to stir
the day telling me to begin
listening to my breath for the first time
that day, unlike when I was closed off
in my sleep, when I didn’t hear
the sounds of birds waking in the branches
or the cars out on the highway
or the sheets swish as I moved

in those moments when I spread my hand
across the mattress that we share
to you, who lays next to me
to you, whose sleep is restless
I pause just for a second or maybe two
everything is not real, but it is
as is this morning
the Saturday has fallen once again
I remember the previous
the events, the loss

in those moments as we drive out
in our ‘getting along with life’
when the clock on the dashboard
clicks to 9:30am
I reach and hold your hand
with seven days that have passed
today is as real as last week was
tears well in our eyes
and the clock, as life, continues

31 thoughts on “The moments after

  1. oh…*hugs*…

    I know how you grieve. I can only imagine how your Mr. S must feel.

    Still…a thought for you …

    When the time comes,…. for the 9:30 of your time …
    …you will wish your two remember … smile … and celebrate your 9:29.
    …and I know, like myself, you will want them to then move to their 9:31.

    As I know the mister’s would want.

    I still offer my condolences….tis not easy.


    • Thank you darling. Yes this morning not an easy one, but what you say – yes – a good way to cope and next Saturday when 9:30 ticks over – I shall hopefully hold his hand and we will be able to smile knowing we have the memories, knowing we have each other to lean on. {hugss} to you. x

  2. OMG Jen… you have me in tears here. this poem builds and builds… softly, steadily. then, the last stanza – and wow.
    “and the clock, as life, continues
    incredible write.

  3. memories can be haunting, triggers here and there. focus is strong on some, a scent a date or a time… but, too, those triggers can evoke just memories, memories of the person, not of their
    absence. They can bring on a little smile as you see their face, smile or wink.. those little triggers of date, scent or time can also be cherished for the memories they awaken.


  4. Well there is certainly a long line of comments to get through to my two cents in. I thought it was a very well thought out controled poetic narrative taking place. There were some snags but they were far outweighed by the moments of sheer poetry you showed. I wonder why you ever asked for my help. Hell you’ve got more followers and get more comments than I do so you must be doing it well. And I think you are. >KB

    • Thank you so much KB – my asking for advice was simple. I love the way that you write, you along with Miriam are the 2 most inspirational poets that I know. From reading her work and yours – this has helped me find my voice. I don’t know how many followers you have, but I also write other pieces (not just the poetry) this could account for ‘doing well’. One can never cease asking for help or being educated when it comes to writing, this is why I have turned to you and more than likely will do so in the future. *smile*

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