Featured Content: Poems Of Love and Loss

Poems from the Heart

I Miss You, Red Rose in June, My Forever Son

“If Only a Mother’s Love Could Have Saved You”

Summer
Vibe


The sky was so blue, and the sun so bright, that an eternal summer seemed to reign over this prospect.

If Only a Mother’s Love Could Have Saved You-A Poem of Longing and Loss

If only a mother’s love

could have saved you,

been there to catch you fall 

tears stilled by the heavens 

to where now and forever,

you forever are­­…

Beth Brown, “If Only a Mother’s Love Could Have Saved You

“Once Upon a Blue-Sky Moon

Purple phlox in bloom is next to a water pond with 2 waterfalls.

Featured Content: Poems of Longing, Loss and Love

Suicide Loss and Complicated Grief-When Grief Gets Stuck

Isn’t All Grief Complicated? I am a bereaved parent of an only child who died by suicide in 2012. Does that mean I had (and still have–on some days), “Complicated Grief”? The Shape of My Grief When I lost my only child, my 20-year-old son Dylan, to suicide in June of 2012, no one referred […]

From Sorrow to Joy : How Pain Colors Loss

It’s on my refrigerator door–a small, rectangular magnet wedged between a “Choose Hope” magnet and a photograph of my son. The image on the magnet startles. Think Edvard Munch crossed with Vincent Van Gogh. An image depicting a bit of both artists: the sheer starkness of Munch’s scream on a yellow-splashed figure with arms uplifted […]

Pink Roses in June, My Forever Son

If Only a Mother’s Love Could Have Saved You-A Poem of Loss

If only a mother’s love

could have saved you,

been there to catch you fall

tears stilled by the heavens

to where now and forever,

you forever are­­

Beth Brown, “If Only a Mother’s Love Could Have Saved You

Poems from the Heart

Where to Go for Support After Suicide Loss

. . .the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that after a stable period from 2000 to 2007, the rate of suicide among those aged 10 to 24 increased dramatically — by 56 percent — between 2007 and 2017, making suicide the second leading cause of death in this age group, following accidents like […]

Is Suicide Really a Choice?

The Stigma of Suicide That we must even ponder: “Is suicide really a choice?” reflects a still pervasive stigma of suicide that somehow, losing a loved one to death by suicide can be controlled–that losing a loved one could have, might have been prevented; that we missed something, a fatal flaw in the way we […]

Purple phlox in bloom is next to a water pond with 2 waterfalls.

“Once Upon a Blue-Sky Moon”–A Poem about Child Loss

Once Upon a Blue-Sky Moon A Poem for Dylan by Beth Brown And once upon a blue-sky moon, We sailed our ships in your bedroom, With stars for light, we fled the dark But the lightening flashed, And the sky grew dark. You tucked away your childhood dreams On wings that soared beyond infinity, Your […]

A Poem of Love, Loss, and Hope: “Tillers of the Earth”

By Beth Brown Post date January 19, 2021

My Forever Son: A Mother's Journey After Losing Her Son to Suicide

Tillers of the Earth and Tenders of the Soil

A Poem of Love, Loss, and Hope

Tillers of the Earth

by Beth Brown

We are the tillers of the earth and the tenders of the soil.

These trees and plants and water garden were here before us, and they will be here after we go.

We take care of them that they might take care of us and that love might be this caring for one another. 

We are the tillers of the earth and the wakers of the soil.
 
How wonderful to see purple this late in the fall and orange on the kindling.
 
Insects swarm madly. What are they doing? Where are they going?

Where go all of us when stand we no longer (further) on grounds hallowed and loved?

We are all tired of blooming, and so rest we now where hallowed love lies and dreams live on even past this point where we are one.
 
We sit, we watch, we wait, for time has a way of catching us all a little off guard and unwilling to wield yield.
 
Tired I rest, tired I fall, and so wonder when, then, I can no longer be this tiller of earth, tender of soil?

When no longer I can mother these roots, bark, leaves, budding and blooming, where then must I go?
 
Where must I be when all that mothers me isn’t any more green and growing?
 
Where must we be when tender no more this sky-earth reach where love in-between sends nights' sky sleep songs to ease her sorrow?
  
That always we could be crickets at dusk and water-lilies opening.
 
That always we could be skimming iridescent hues past this pain of knowing that even seasons lose their way.
 
That Sun-sky could hold ache of us now–tangled branches caught in January, berries spindled against stark limbs. 

© Beth Brown

All Rights Reserved





On My Own

Most Beloved, Gardens at Effingham

Rememberer of dreams. Whisperer of gardens green.
At the whim of “Most Beloved” and a hot cup of tea.
I live life between, straddled here now and then,
My continuity through writing–
Pen dripping ink, mind swirling confused,
Love lingering still, and Most Beloved’s purring soothes.

Blogger at “Gardens at Effingham” (where cats do the talking) and “My Forever Son” (where a mother’s heart runs deep after losing her son to suicide)
Musician. Writer. Literary Connoisseur.
At the whim of a calico cat and a strong cup of tea. View Archive →

By Beth Brown (and Most Beloved, but of course)


← A Prayer for the Unanswerable Question of Suicide → Rising Up–Because Love Lives Forever


“If Earth Were Sky (And Sky Above)”– A Poem of Love and Loss

If Earth Were Sky (And Sky Above) By Beth Brown If earth were sky and sky above Then heart could hold this ache of love, Suspended, like rain, in clouds wanting to fall, But bound to sun’s joy because heart touches all. I fall ‘ere so slowly most cannot yet tell My pain lives so […]

“Bury My Heart”– A Poem for Dylan

Bury my heart I’ve come undone Sorting through this life My son left behind. And what I’m seeking I know I’ll never find His touch, his smile— His still living his life. And so instead I sift through A still life dream My heart and life with him Forever it seemed. And oh my son […]

A Poem of Love, Loss, and Hope: “Tillers of the Earth”

By Beth Brown Post date January 19, 2021

My Forever Son: A Mother's Journey After Losing Her Son to Suicide

Tillers of the Earth and Tenders of the Soil

A Poem of Love, Loss, and Hope

Tillers of the Earth

by Beth Brown

We are the tillers of the earth and the tenders of the soil.

These trees and plants and water garden were here before us, and they will be here after we go.

We take care of them that they might take care of us and that love might be this caring for one another. 

We are the tillers of the earth and the wakers of the soil.
 
How wonderful to see purple this late in the fall and orange on the kindling.
 
Insects swarm madly. What are they doing? Where are they going?

Where go all of us when stand we no longer (further) on grounds hallowed and loved?

We are all tired of blooming, and so rest we now where hallowed love lies and dreams live on even past this point where we are one.
 
We sit, we watch, we wait, for time has a way of catching us all a little off guard and unwilling to wield yield.
 
Tired I rest, tired I fall, and so wonder when, then, I can no longer be this tiller of earth, tender of soil?

When no longer I can mother these roots, bark, leaves, budding and blooming, where then must I go?
 
Where must I be when all that mothers me isn’t any more green and growing?
 
Where must we be when tender no more this sky-earth reach where love in-between sends nights' sky sleep songs to ease her sorrow?
  
That always we could be crickets at dusk and water-lilies opening.
 
That always we could be skimming iridescent hues past this pain of knowing that even seasons lose their way.
 
That Sun-sky could hold ache of us now–tangled branches caught in January, berries spindled against stark limbs. 

© Beth Brown

All Rights Reserved





On My Own

Most Beloved, Gardens at Effingham

Rememberer of dreams. Whisperer of gardens green.
At the whim of “Most Beloved” and a hot cup of tea.
I live life between, straddled here now and then,
My continuity through writing–
Pen dripping ink, mind swirling confused,
Love lingering still, and Most Beloved’s purring soothes.

Blogger at “Gardens at Effingham” (where cats do the talking) and “My Forever Son” (where a mother’s heart runs deep after losing her son to suicide)
Musician. Writer. Literary Connoisseur.
At the whim of a calico cat and a strong cup of tea. View Archive →

By Beth Brown (and Most Beloved, but of course)


← A Prayer for the Unanswerable Question of Suicide → Rising Up–Because Love Lives Forever


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