The Visitor

In memory of my Uncle Bob, born on May 12, 1940.  He  passed away in 2007.                    Great Blue Herons frequented the family farm where he spent the last several years of his life. 

The Visitor 

Immersed in my thoughts, I weed, trim, turn soil.
My flower beds, a refuge 
from the sadness in my heart.
Yet another loss, not unexpected, but still…

An unfamiliar sound — I look up.
So very close, a Great Blue Heron,
large wings slowly beating,
 balancing precariously on slender tree branch.

I sit back, mesmerized,
as it watches me.
An unlikely visitor to my backyard.
I slowly stand, take soft steps, draw closer.

In a moment, it takes flight,
crosses above me, lights on lofty perch,
gazes back my way.
I am spellbound.   

Could it be him…
I quietly watch my extraordinary guest,
admire graceful wings extending,
as it lifts off for farewell flight.  

High above the barn and tall spruces,
towards the setting sun.
An incredible sight…
I am so blessed.

                                     

Sandi Knight
© 2007

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Final Farewell

For as much as death is a part of life, we frequently get it wrong when attempting to offer comfort.  Support often needs no words.  We can be there for each other and simply allow the grief.


Final Farewell

A river of cards swells across the dining room table.
Overwhelming sadness grips my heart.
Sympathetic words echo in my mind.
Some offer comfort; others try…
“The suffering is over.”
“It was meant to be.”
“He’s at peace now.”
“It’s a blessing.”
Why do they feel the need to rationalize death?
No amount of logic will fill the vast emptiness I feel.
I have lost someone I love.
Allow me my sorrow.
Allow me my tears.
Allow me to grieve.
In time, I will move on, but not yet, not today…
It is time to reflect on a lifetime of memories,
to celebrate the time we had together,
to say a final painful farewell.

Sandi Knight
February 16, 2010