shards of memory
jagged-edged
broken emotions —
wholeness
is the fossil
of childhood —
growing up
fractures
many things —
—Terri Guillemets
memories
Veggie soup
peeling this sweet potato
i can smell the earth
i close my eyes and smile
then cry —
when did i get so removed
from the soil, the land
from simplicity —
the family garden
in grade school
my bare feet on warm dirt
i was so happy
there were carrots
and worms
and life
was carefree —
i finish making soup
do the chores
the day was busy
i am tired —
the nights
when there is time
enough leftover
to snuggle into bed
a little early & read
and i can keep
my eyes open
long enough for it —
this is heaven
simple, free, happy
heaven
—Terri Guillemets
End of life
no matter which end-of-life decisions were made,
there are always regrets, there is always that guilt —
live parts of me holding onto memories of a dying you
dead parts of me holding onto living memories of you
—Terri Guillemets
Do I write grief or is it writing me?
I write all these death poems, these grief poems —
and does it really make me feel better? Or am I just
twisting my heart so that I can feel, to remember?
Because I’m afraid that if I don’t feel, I will forget.
—Terri Guillemets
Why we can’t let go
Regret is the glue that makes grief stick around for a lifetime.
—Terri Guillemets
This time last year
the shadows are falling the same as they were last year
the early summer calm sounds the same as it did last year
as it did at this same time last year, when the babies died
when the babies died, and the mama grieved for days
—Terri Guillemets
Holes & tears
Missing you isn’t just an empty void — it’s what-ifs and questions and endless thoughts and bittersweet memories and runaway feelings and emotions that can’t get a hold on anything physical so just slip and slide around my mind, and hide and re-emerge.
—Terri Guillemets
Cold is relative
When you’re shivering with loss, let love keep you warm with memories.
—Terri Guillemets
Playground
We mature in knowledge and wisdom but never leave the playground of our hearts.
—Terri Guillemets
Iridescent
the years sprint, sail, drift, fly —
days melt into sleep
decades we no longer know
by taste or smell, yes
but hard fast memories tend not to keep —
youth lives on — yet, is long gone
birds chirp each spring anew
but our hearts sing the same shades
of childhood colors we once knew
—Terri Guillemets
Revenant
O! how many ghosts in a wound of war.
—Terri Guillemets
Reflecting in the night
My wrinkles are a playground of happy memories.
—Terri Guillemets
Scraps
A scar is a memory from the scrapbook your body is keeping about you.
—Terri Guillemets