Soundless Rest.
How pale, whiter than white are your lips, shaping
not one word now, immovably soundless, making
their roundness ever more pressed into my heart.
Your silken tresses coiled in small ringlets, parted
by fine little wisps above your primrose-soft face,
of unwrinkled pink now forever remaining a babe.
Two feel-of-rosebud hands laid so sweetly beneath
the shroud, why did you leave me Infanta, impeach
all my hopes and dreams, the most gentle of access
to paradise lay in your smile, dear sleeping princess.
The pavane will be dancing you first into soundless
rest while I restive remain to forever feel grounded
by thirst for your breath while crying sorrow's adieu
for all my tomorrows will besmirch life without you.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: November 14th, 2021 02:12
- Comment from author about the poem: After hearing Ravel's sad piece of music called "Pavane for a Dead Princess" I wrote to express the grief of a mother at losing a child.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 29
- Users favorite of this poem: jarcher54
Offline)
Comments10
A sensitive write Fay, and linking with Remembrance theme, of those who have lost a child (of whatever age in human years) in wars.
Such a loss is felt daily for life and it's poetry will change as the years pass. Coming to terms with such loss and grief is a lifetimes burden. A challenge to any perception of faith but a torchlight in the dullness of religious bigotry.
A beautiful, sad and tragic piece Fay.
Colossal poem. The ones who sacrificed themselves for us, and the ones they leave behind. Life goes on, we know that, we're here living it and thankful for it.
"I know what it is that troubles you, for I've been here the whole time. You worry about the presence of your life within the absence of mine." - Words of a son written for his mother. Perhaps that may have been such a child's response. I enjoyed the read, Fay.
A very heartfelt piece dear Fay
Sad and full of emotions
They left with plenty of memories for us to live
Your words truly evoke the depth of sorrow, that is so somberly visible on a mother’s face.
Such beautiful words Fay,. It is so hard to lose babies. Joyce and I had a friend who unfortunately lost two babies, such hard times.
Andy
tender, timeless, and piercing. Dusk makes a keen observation, that the mother's poem will evolve from this pitiless foundation, build on it, not forsaking these keen initial moans, but building upon the wound, then its jagged scar, and gradually healing, but never without feeling its bitter core. You made my evening meaningful. That's why I read these poems.
Such a devastating loss has hung heavy over my own family (my sister & her husband) for over twenty years and I fear the hurt is the same today as it ever was ....
Excellently addressed & subsequently executed dear Fay
Neville x
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