Tag: loss

  • Poem: No Lamenting – 12/06/21

    Poem: No Lamenting – 12/06/21

    Do not come here to lament,
    it is not eulogy time.
    This is cause for celebration,
    poignant moments of her life.

    Allow me to demonstrate
    why the need to weep
    has passed,
    maturity, acceptance, understanding,
    instead of mourning,
    she’d want us to
    leap, to dance.

    To gain favour
    to her memories,
    spin! she was strong
    with her words,
    the values of her heart,

    she speaks her mind,
    doesn’t allow thoughts to fester,
    knowing when and where
    they will grow,
    from an echoing room,
    negativity can depart.

    Into the depths
    where we can explore,
    no reasons to judge
    nor deplore,
    she’d tell me to
    live life to the full,
    without her I’d be empty,
    that is a certainty, for sure.

    Plutonian measures
    devastatingly linger in the gloom,
    take me back to that moment,
    that instance,
    when peace and love had
    already been, had grown, so pure.

    Do not come here to lament,
    for she is here,
    with us,
    precious time,
    lovingly ours and forevermore
    will our tales remain intertwined.

    © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image Pixabay on Pexels

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  • Poem: Beautiful Tragedy – 18/09/20

    Poem: Beautiful Tragedy – 18/09/20

    Our love was a beautiful tragedy,
    we flourished from the taste
    of its existence,
    the way we reacted and acted was
    like that of a giggling pair of youths.

    But we lacked maturity,
    good times could not only be the
    ones had,
    falling into his eyes,
    his hurt,
    what did it truly mean?

    Listening to and sharing tales,
    the mutual opening up of
    old wounds,
    and while information was privileged,
    I sometimes felt ill-equipped
    to properly advise or comment.

    The tragedy behind our
    wall of defensiveness against the world,
    our fortress of affection
    which was mean to enclose,
    protect,
    preserve our magic,
    only to be seen, admired, and envied
    at certain times by others
    when we decided to be on display,

    the tragedy was that our perfect little bubble
    was our downfall,
    and a lacking of self-understanding
    on part of one or both –
    perhaps specifically one,
    perhaps it was me.

    The absence of self-awareness,
    a reasoning and knowledge
    of what was required,
    what was necessary for the
    growth of the heart
    could cause a cacophony,
    reverberations to be felt and heard
    for many an eve.

    Now truly seems the time to heal,
    I must attempt this;
    we must try our best to repair,
    cannot have one or the other disappear,
    a desire rise to vanish into thin air.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Morgan Sessions on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Your Tower – 17/09/20

    Poem: Your Tower – 17/09/20

    Lost connections,
    fallen by the wayside,
    the electricity which surged,
    now plundered of pride,

    hypocrisy which seems to glimmer
    at the door,
    I wonder what was intended,
    and were the relationships meant to be more?

    Tainted by disconnect,
    lacking in joinery and glue,
    once so potent,
    alienated – by choice?
    Is this the truth?
    Walking away,
    time to rebuild without dismay.

    Sometimes stronger on your own,
    perched in a tower,
    the only being there to recognise
    your humble throne,
    you are strong, despite it all,
    you can achieve comfort,
    consideration, quietly, Queen,
    you know,
    your silent goals.

    Strenuous may be the thought processes
    where you dance with indecisiveness,
    but know you are the maker of
    your own fate,
    don’t forget your heart,
    little lady,
    for it may become too late.

    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Photo by Tobias Reich on Unsplash

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  • Poem: Jacob’s Wings – 06/07/20

    Poem: Jacob’s Wings – 06/07/20

    Your wings were ready
    but we were not,
    we should have felt
    prepared for this day,
     
    for months we
    insisted that you
    remain with us,
    were we so selfish
    each time we decided
    you should stay?
     
    Those fateful, family discussions
    which ended with:
    Save Jacob!
    With us, he must remain.
     
    Your sad eyes quietly suffered,
    your bloated, lethargic body
    laid sprawled on the porch,
     
    each morning and evening
    your advanced Cushing’s disease
    required invasive, pain-controlling shots.
     
    We couldn’t let you go,
    but you begged,
    silently cried
    for freedom,
     
    to slip away
    from this world,
    far from your suffering,
     
    we insisted a little longer in
    our lives you must remain,
    we loved you,
    saying goodbye so soon?
    There was no way.
     
    Your elderly state,
    your debilitating illness,
    your immense pain,
    the accompanying afflictions,
    as a family pet you’d been
    so good to us,
    and now we
    would not let you leave.
     
    But for all your suffering,
    there came the time
    when we
    realised and acknowledged
    that with future wings
    you must be
    allowed to roam free,
     
    your wings were
    almost ready,
    but our hearts
    still ached for you
    not to leave.
     
    And as I stared
    into your beautiful, deep brown,
    understanding eyes,
    I held your paw
    as the green calming fluid
    took hold of you,
     
    my darling, 
    my sweet, brave Jacob,
    my loving companion before me,
    
    who comforted me through
    hell and heaven,
    finally at peace,
     
    our tears continued to well,
    hysterical, guttural wails,
    our world now bare,
    lost without you,
     
    my two younger brothers and I left alone
    in this stark grey, private room:
    utterly broken, crestfallen, despairing.
    
    © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Personal photos. 

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  • Poem Trilogy: As Close as Could Be – 29/12/19

    Poem Trilogy: As Close as Could Be – 29/12/19

    Part I: The Ebb and Flow of Healing

     Press forth,
     her gesture whispered,
     you can do it,
     reach that realm.
      
     Her hand gently pressing the 
     small of my back,
     encouragement to reach that certain angel.
      
     An angel who would heal me,
     remove from me all 
     the pain and 
     suffering
     that I was feeling,
      
     brought upon me by a being 
     so nasty and calculated,
     I don’t know why or how I loved him. 
      
     With him I felt the drag,
     with her I was allowed to
     be myself,
      
     I could stay awake until three,
     write, draw pictures, sing, dance,
     do anything.
      
     Feverishly I wrote and wrote,
     wrote and posted, 
     in my crumbling state of 
     heightened illness,
     I made sure I was heard by my world.
      
     These people, I did not know
     who I had reached,
     whether I was well received
     or even understood.
      
     But the numbers didn’t matter,
     it was the act of self-expression,
     to be prolific in my work 
     was very important.
      
     It was most important 
     that the ideas were expelled from me
     like endless buzzes from a 
     curious yet insidious bee
     turned rogue wasp,
     I wanted to be belligerent in my exposes,
     to a certain degree.
      
     Because some needed to be spoken of,
     others needed to be hidden and taken care of,
     but I most needed healing –
     purging was my means of achieving this.
      
     Meditation also called to me,
     I practiced it religiously,
     sometimes thrice daily. 
      
     And once I removed the 
     sin from my system,
     forced upon me via devilish means,
     I felt a sense of tearing,
     a breakage within,
     I wept and wept as though 
     a staining upon my soul
     had been removed. 
      
     I healed in her presence
     but I still longed for the perpetrator,
     in both my mind and reality 
     he was the culprit
     but of my heart, 
     somehow he would be my saviour.

    Part II: The Cost

     He came into my life, 
     she came into yours,
     jealousy seemed to rear its ugly head.
    
     We had always had each other,
     but now we had lovers to occupy our 
     hearts and time,
     less and less did we see each other, 
     and when we did, 
     mostly talk did we of our others in our lives.
      
     Becoming tamer and more domesticated
     we calmed in times of love and lust,
     another’s hand to hold and to accept us
     for who we really were in life.
      
     They seemed to be more
     than our friendship could provide,
     but these unions came at a certain cost.

    Part III: Who I Once Thought You Were

     Who I once thought she was,
     is not who she is now,
     her new identity is now sharper, 
     harsher,
     well defined,
     strikingly and painfully real.
      
     Her care, love, and concern,
     dispersed to other sources,
     grown apart, it does seem,
     new friends in her current life courses.
      
     We were like slippery fish playing together,
     rolling in the deep, 
     enjoying each other’s company,
     slapping our tails playfully, 
     even taking on a curious eel 
     who simply wanted to grin.
      
     Then, prolonged silence, 
     we would no longer speak,
     for an age it would be that we would 
     not bother to take our fill of 
     each other’s words or efforts at counselling.
      
     Disapproval from both ends of the spectrum,
     who knew what was unfolding, if even anything?
     The silences initially made me angered,
     but I would not call, I would not give in.
      
     And so, I observe the changes, 
     not the physical, but the mental and emotional,
     it appears there is a great disconnect 
     and unsurprisingly 
     I can feel the presence of it. 
      
     My fellow slippery finned friend who was 
     once well featured in my life,
     where day by day we shared each other’s moments,
     then side-by-side we fell from one another’s 
     stories, both public and private. 
      
     And now it seems as though we are
     on the way to becoming strangers,
     it’s amazing how these things can unravel,
     this notion of being “best friends”
     it sometimes ends in upheaval. 
    
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.  

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  • Poem: Stay a While – 28/12/19

    Poem: Stay a While – 28/12/19

    N.B. This post may be triggering for some people. Please consider if you may be prone to being negatively affected by reading this post. 
    
     Stay a while, they said to him, 
     consume, consume, 
     of us, 
     take your fill.
      
     There is nothing in life  
     we cannot fix,
     blindly drink, 
     devour, ingest,
     take us in,
     we are your fuel. 
      
     Then,
     Stay a while, 
     They say to him, 
     as he sways from side to side,
     excessiveness his served meal, 
      
     Stay, my friend, stay, 
     an echoing voice calls,  
     the past dragging him behind 
     to a voice he once knew well. 
      
     Stay, my darling, please,
     her voice begs of him, 
     as he foams at the mouth, 
     his eyes rolling terrifyingly,
      
     Go if you must, 
     his mother’s saddened voice is faint, 
     barely a whisper, 
     as she strokes his hair,
     wipes away the slick sweat.
     
     In a moment she knows he is lost. 
      
     Teach them to stay, 
     that life is worth living! 
     she announces to the 
     assembled crowd 
     at the gathering where 
     awareness is raised
     for her son and the psychology of 
     many lost and living others.
      
     They need to stay,
     she beseeches, 
     they need to know we want and need them to remain,
     love will teach them,
     that they need to stay a whole while longer.
      
     © 2019 Lauren M. Hancock 
    also known as Alice Well. All rights reserved. 

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