A Short Story of Grief As Told In My Garden

High Into the Blue.

Summer Rose (c) copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

My Summer Rose
(c) copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

Even though I break and shatter,

Even though I cry alone;

Even then I know you are with me,

Even then I know I am home.

Lillies (c) Copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

My Lillies
(c) Copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

How do I heal from this?  Is it possible when I am so very lost?

My Garden (c) Sherri Matthews Copyright 2013

My Garden
(c) Sherri Matthews Copyright 2013

My acid tears cannot quench the raging torrent of a red hot pain coursing through me.

This is a good sign. 

At least it means I can feel something.  It is easier to feel anger than deal with the naked truth of a grief that is as stark and as harsh as a wild, black sea. 

Tossed about as I am, yet I’ve never felt more grounded that I ever have right now.  I cannot understand it. The truth is I want to be angry but I can’t.  So I have no choice but to face the grief in all its stripped down glory.

It is sublime.  A thing of perverse beauty.

My Trailing Rose  (c) Copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

My Trailing Rose
(c) Copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

As I hold your hand darling girl in the dead of night, there is an unbreakable love surrounding us. 

The darkest hour is before dawn. 

Dawn arrives bringing with it sweet relief. 

For there is always  hope.  There is always faith.  But the greatest of these is

Love.

My Garden (c) Copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

My Garden
(c) Copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

Quiet. Still. Colour.

Seranade me if you will;

Reach out and touch me in the cold beauty of this hour.

Heal me with your cool breeze, with your handmade colours and your music from heaven;

Stir me with your symphony and bring me back to life. 

Fall upon me Summer Rain and speak to me with your promises of deliverence;

Softly whisper them to me so many times that I shall never forget them.

Then take my burden and lift me high into the blue.

My Summer Rose (c) copyright Sherri Matthews 2013

Then I know that it is well

It is well with my soul.

The Kiss of the Sun for Pardon, The Song of the Birds for Mirth, One is Closer to God’s heart in the Garden Than Anywhere Else On Earth. (Anon)

About Sherri Matthews

Sherri is a British writer working on her second memoir while seeking publication of her first. Her work has appeared in magazines, anthologies and online as well as long/shortlisted and special mentioned in contests. Once upon a time and for twenty years, she lived in California. Today, she lives in England with her human family, owned by two black cats.
This entry was posted in Garden Snippets, Grief, Photos, Poems, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to A Short Story of Grief As Told In My Garden

  1. Beautiful, so lovely, as are you.
    You have a special, special gift and you inspire me!!

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  2. Genny says:

    Sending you, Claire and the family much love and sympathy. You are in our thoughts during this difficult time. We hope you all find comfort and a way through it to a better place. Huge hugs and love always, Genny, Dave and Josh

    Like

  3. Tish says:

    Don’t forget that you are never alone, you are surrounded by people who really love and care for you and with that united bond you can face anything……

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  4. Wow, Sherri, very powerful words and spectacular pictures! I am glad you still believe there “is always hope.” There have been times that was all that I knew – it’s enough for now, Sherri. Let trusted friend help you out of the pit. God bless you.

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    • Sherri says:

      Thank you so much for your very touching words shared here Bill! So glad you enjoyed the pics! As for the words, they were written in a moment of quiet despair while I sat outside in the sunshine of my garden, so a stark contrast indeed. I shall indeed allow that help and God bless you Bill, in your ‘Unshakeable Hope’ 🙂

      Like

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