Grief Sounds
by Mary Jane Hurley Brant
My grief’s a whirling ceiling fan
It whips me about again and again.
chop chop
whoosh whoosh
My soul a tortured tear-stained book.
This splintered old boat on an angry sea
It rocks; it shouts you’ll never sink me.
slosh slosh
splash splash
My soul a prayerful history.
A blossoming limb torn from our family tree;
Like lightening it’s deafening oh God save me.
chop chop
crack crack
My soul just aching to bring her back.
Where is the Angel?
By Mary Jane Hurley Brant
Where is the Angel?
I’ve searched
everywhere
for her.
She has gone.
For how long
will she be gone?
Forever.
Forever?
Yes, forever.
And, also, that best part of
her and him.
Who is he?
The angel’s father, who was her hero.
Oh. And what of the mother?
She’s a different woman now.
She seeks change;
wants to explore.
Will they both soldier on?
Serve heaven’s commands?
Life’s spiritual demands?
Yes. They march forward
with precious tenderness
patience, pain and remembrance;
Grief’s their companion now.
Do you believe they’ll manage together
this monumental,
overwhelming
grief forever?
Yes, forever and ever and ever.
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