Death Song- 10/28/19
Grief is hard
to process.
Every Loss is a Leaf
on the golden growing tree
stretching across Earth
Sky and Time,
Leaving only
Memory.
Grief is hard
to process.
Healing does take time.
The dying part is never
easy.
The wounds are left
beneath your skin.
The markings are left
on the beating heart.
The memories are buried deeply
within your Soul.
But our Grief
teaches us lessons
and the ability
to let it all go.
The Big Empty- 10/29/19
There is a heaviness
inside my heart
knowing I will never
see you again.
There is a prayer
inside my heart
knowing your on
the other side.
There is a hopefulness
inside my heart
knowing you are
with my Mama now.
There is love
inside my heart
knowing you are
at peace.
But there is also
emptiness
inside my heart,
for the unspoken words
the memories never created.
For all of Loss and Grief
and those moments
we will never
share again
inside my heart
there is
the Big Empty.
A empty chair
A missed goodbye
An unwritten Eulogy
A loss of my family
I will miss you
deep down
inside my heart.
The Table top poem by Emily Sturgill
2/26/2011
A woman filled with the mourning of
the loss of her husband
put his hunting jacket on the table.
She also placed his fishing gear, hooks and tackle on the table.
She put her memories of him into their children and grandchildren.
The stories he would tell She put the words into her dry mouth telling
them to all who would listen especially on the holidays.
After 40 years of marriage a stranger murdered her husband.
She had never met this stranger before but he was introduced to the couple
three years before her husband’s death as Stomach Cancer.
Unfortunately due to her grief the woman has to be reminded of the happy times She had with her husband by her children and friends. The couple with one half missing now have a great grandchild.
She changes into her nightgown putting her heart on her sleeve and goes to bed into a dreamless sleep.
Written for Gary and Deborah Sturgill in 2011. Gary passed in April 2006.
missing pieces 10-24-15
you’ve passed away two days now
and there are pieces of you everywhere.
its the missing pieces, that i miss.
the sound of your sharp howl bark
the snap of your jaws and teeth-(as you would try to “speak”)
the click-clackey clack of your paws and nails
on our wood floors.
there’s even bits and pieces of your thick
wool like fur on the staircases.
there’s the empty spot where you would lay
under the dining room table.
these missing pieces of the old dog I loved.
the house feels lonely and much quieter now.
letting you go was very hard.
now your somewhere better and hopefully
at peace. No longer in pain just another dog angel
in a sky filled of stardust. But I’m left with memories
and missing pieces of my friend.
Wool-
Weds 10-21-15
Wool-
your fur feels like wool
my loyal shiba inu
but as i pet you it comes off in patches.
my breath catches,
deep in my throat -deep down in the place
where tear rivers flow.
and I don’t know
how to say goodbye?
Lord only knows
how hard we tried
to save you from illness and grief.
now as a last resort
is putting you to sleep.
But that’s for tomorrow.
today is for saying goodbye
and your fur feels like wool.
your sleeping most of the time now.
at 13 or 14 years old your no longer
our spunky friend.
you’ve slowed down but we both love you so much.
Tomorrow morning will come soon enough.
I wish there was a way to properly
say goodbye and i love you
my loyal shiba inu.
Rest in peace Moshi Moshi Feb 2001-10/22/15
The weeping widow-12/31/14
Emily Sturgill
The Weeping Widow
She always is in a state of
emotional disarray, turmoil, nothing
can change or stop this
it never goes away.
The Weeping Widow
She is often at her wits end,
constantly in mourning
grieving each and every lost
relative or friend.
The Weeping Widow
relives each death like a cassette
tape on the rewind.
It is the only thing she focuses
on, her mourning, their deaths, her pain.
I watch her go through these moments
almost daily.
It’s obvious to me, she clearly needs
therapy, yet she refuses to go.
I am so unsure why Death
has such a huge hold on her,
but it does and she will not let it go.
It seems like everyday on our calendar is
a reminder-to her-of the death of someone
She once loved and lost,
she turns to me
confides in me
constantly
but I am unable to bear this burden
her cross
her loss.
I cannot replace who is missing-
all I can do is offer to listen.
And then there comes this sharp ended
point where I cannot hear it anymore.
The Weeping Widow
relives each death like a cassette
tape on the rewind.
It is the only thing she focuses
on, her mourning, their deaths, her pain.
I watch her go through these moments
almost daily.
the Monster of me-
12/27/14
by Emily Sturgill
the Monster of me-
you cannot see
from the outside, but,
on the inside
there is a Monster of me.
deep inside a divided mind-
there is a Monster of me
It’s ugly, and messy,
It’s broken, jagged, sharpen edges
with rotted teeth
with the violet violence of despair.
Deep down inside me,
lies horrible truths, like Anger, Depression, Sadness and Fear.
it eats away at me from the inside out.
leaving nothing but
this empty shell
of a young looking pretty
40 something, crazy cat-lady,
bag lady, bag lady, i’ve been there before.
the Monster of me
is what you cannot see.
I appear normal enough
but i am raw to the touch.
and the tears just flow
like a faucet with way too much
draino.
I can appear to be
almost anything. Confident, witty or artsy-
or quiet and shy,
but deep down inside
an unraveling mind,
lies the Truth
I am mentally ill.
I am dangerous
I am to be feared
and never understood.
I am just another anonymous Statistic
I am just another runaway lunatic
I am just another victim
of my own unhinged mind.
I live with bipolar disorder
and that feels like a Crime.
the Monster of me
i keep her chained to the bed
on a dirty mattress
She’s the darkest deepest secret
the Horror in my head.
Not enough-
Dec 26th, 2014
Friday Afternoon 2:49 EST
Not enough
Never enough
Not enough
sleep.
Not enough,
to eat.
Not enough,
to touch the sky & kidnap the Sun.
Not enough, to learn how to fly,
just enough to become
untied
undone.
Not enough to reach outwards and find it.
Not enough to reach out, and grab the happy
right off someone else’s face,
because my happy
its become erased
misplaced
lost confusion.
It’s just not enough,
to fix up this place.
It’s not enough to straighten
this room, to clean between the cracks, to sweep
a broom across this dusty room
deep inside my minds eye.
Not enough,
to touch the sky & kidnap the Sun.
Not enough, to learn how to fly,
just enough to become
untied
undone.
It’s not enough to
try to run, to sprint, to finish
the race.
I’m fresh out of lungs
the air is too sharp, cold and dry-
It’s not enough,
to just sit here
waiting for you
to get home.
It’s not enough, to be a failure as a housewife,
to be a successful lunatic
with a Masters Degree
and no job prospects.
It’s not enough
to be a crazy person,
living on SSDI, it’s not enough, to always
live in someone else’s shadow
it’s not enough
to be the ghost
you can come home
and answer too.
Don’t you understand?
My wings may have melted, because I flew
too closely to the Sun
but I have dreams too.
I do not long to be
someone else’s
no one.
a sinking feeling by Emily Sturgill 6/24/14
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
and your leaving for work
as you kiss me goodbye
all I see on your face
is anger and hurt.
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
your disappointed in me
once more again
somehow, some way I
have let you down again.
and there is no time
for words or apologies.
a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
I can see with one look
your angry with me
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
I do not even have or own
the magical words
of saying I’m sorry,
because you do not share
whatever wrong I’ve done.
this day is off to a rocky start.
a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
with one angry look
you cracked my heart.
split it halfways
like two sides
of a cracked raw
egg yolk.
a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
as I sit here in a precursor to all my tears,
I know you’d throw me overboard in a second
hoping that this time
I would splash, sink, sputter
and finally
drown.
as the ship goes down.
I do not usually post blog-style confesionals. I’m much more of a poet, than anything else. In fact in addition to my poetry online, I have been keeping multiple journals at home and handwritten. One is more private confessional journal type enteries and the other is mostly poems, ideas, and sometimes tarot readings I give myself or lists of things to do or lists of music playlists.
HERE…is mostly just where I share poems, unless I am all fired up. Today, I am all fired up and I think its vital to share because it might help others to move forward.
I am all fired up about the notion of forgiveness. In theory, I do believe it is better to forgive even if not forget or forgive ANd forget-whatever works best for you. But in practice I find this to be a slippery slope. i struggle very much on how to forgive, when to forgive and how to let go. Honestly, I hold horrible grudges. And they are horrible in truth because mostly they only serve to hurt me-myself-nobody else.
All that angry righteous high horse b.s. I desperately hold onto-a sense of who iswrong and who is right? Honestly, it does not serve me much any longer-in fact it wears me down, makes me feel guilty and mad, like an angry hornet shook lose from its nest.
so today, I was with my hubby and we were at the bookstore out of nowhere i spotted like the ideal book and he bought it for me with a couple other items. This book is called, “The forgiveness formula: how to let go of your pain and move on with Life.” It was on sale at barnes and nobles-only$6.98-hardcover-by author Kathleen Griffin. @2004.
I am only on pg 16 so far but this book is exactly what i needed to hear at this time. i am in fact blown away.I am just writing about this because forgiveness can be ajourney-a pathwy-towards feeling lighter-less burdened. And in my heart, i realize it is not an easy thing to forgive. That more folks than just myself struggle with it. Holding onto the past so tightly it only distorts your vision of the present moment and it poisons the well of your future happiness. This seems true to me.
Someday I really hope I can learn to forgive, hopefully sooner than later because all this angry i hold deep down inside-it only strangles me-making it harder to breathe making it harder to reign into my sanity. I realize i am not the only sufferer out there but by refusing to allow forgiveness its like picking a scab, bruised and bleeding-the wound will not heal. I know I will not heal either. By the way, I highly reccommend her book-so far its very good.
