The fallen

Beauty survives in a world of grief. 
—Deborah Meltvedt

We find ourselves grieving
someone, something most days.

The cherished pet, longtime
companion, gone in an eyeblink.
The dearest wife, who arrived
only recently, enlightening our life
together, dying slowly, leaving
so much beauty in her wake.
The father, brother, uncle, husband,
veterans all, whom we salute
on a cold November day, the fall
pressing hard into winter
in some places, unreasonably
warm in others.

Grief lies cold, but beauty
in all its forms warms us,
even in the fallen leaves,
glorious in their russets,
fawns, cornsilk, tumbleweed,
terra cotta, almond brown,

as we remember, as we mourn,
as we must.

Fall trees lakeside / Joe Chan

About janishaag

Writer, writing coach, editor
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2 Responses to The fallen

  1. Janet Johnston says:

    Thank you for this poem, Jan. Yes to beauty, even in despair. Love those colors in the second stanza and the alliteration. Warmed my heart. Janet

  2. Connie Raub says:

    Truly a beautiful and thought-filled remembrance. Thank you!

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