Many of the earliest written poems commemorate a life or death that impacted the poet. Numerous examples can be found online, ranging from elegant eulogies to sentimental rhymes. For instance:
I’m There Inside Your Heart
Author: Unknown
Right now I’m in a different place
And though we seem apart
I’m closer than I ever was,
I’m there inside your heart.
I’m with you when you greet each day
And while the sun shines bright
I’m there to share the sunsets, too
I’m with you every night.
I’m with you when the times are good
To share a laugh or two,
And if a tear should start to fall
I’ll still be there for you.
And when that day arrives
That we no longer are apart,
I’ll smile and hold you close to me,
Forever in my heart.
That poem may be just the kind of poem you’d like to write, and many do, which is fine, but it doesn’t seem truthful to me. Like, do we really feel closer to someone who’s deceased? Is their presence felt as frequently as the poem suggests? Or would you prefer for a poem to get “real” and be honest? I would. For example, consider this poem, also in the public domain:
Let Me Go
Author: Christina Rossetti (1830—1894)
When I come to the end of the road
And the sun has set for me
I want no rites in a gloom filled room
Why cry for a soul set free?
Miss me a little, but not for long
And not with your head bowed low
Remember the love that once we shared
Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take
And each must go alone.
It’s all part of the master plan
A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
Go to the friends we know.
Laugh at all the things we used to do
Miss me, but let me go.
That example reminds us to ask:
- What do I want my poem to bring to others who also mourn?
- What characteristics or accomplishments can the poem commemorate?
- What factor caused the death? long or sudden illness? accident? age?
- What genuine comfort can my poem offer?
- What words might help build a bridge for estranged family or friends?
- What do I wish I had said or not said to the deceased?
- Will other people be likely to feel what I feel?
Years ago, I wrote the following “felt” poem, which was later read at my sister’s funeral. Then, last week, I read it at the graveside service for my daughter and her son.
Expiration Date
I can't seem to get over your dying like that.
Things I thought I knew about you
did not include this option –
not so soon.
No longer am I satisfied
with nebulous concepts
or indefinite infinities.
I want to know, precisely,
how much bone you have retained
and whether anything was gained
from being good.
Should I still hope you'll wait for me?
If so, where will I be inclined to find you –
behind which cloud or nebula?
Tell me, how does it feel
for each cell to unloosen
into dust? And, for what
indeterminate time
does rust remain?
Will my foot still ache
from that day I walked,
barefoot and careless,
over a high threshold?
When I dare again to speak,
will everyone hear, exactly,
what I most meant to say?
[The first two poems are in the public domain, which means you're free to use them if you acknowledge the source. However, if you want to include my poem in a service or any printed matter, please ask first for my permission. Thanks and blessings.]