So many of the comments with regard to 'Winter Grief' are so heartfelt I just wanted to post a thank you to every one for your poignant contributions. 'Winter Grief' was written for a friend in County Clare who was going through a long and difficult winter of necessary inconsolability. DW
That excerpt is stunningly beautiful in meaning and design. Brushstrokes of a master. The sadly sweet tinge of reality buoyed by the hope of release. And so it is… 🙏
How perfect for this morning, as I’m recovering from my 4th neurosurgery and watching the snow fall. This poem said it all in the most beautiful way, thank you 🙏
What an exquisite reminder of the wintering of the soul - its late summer here in southern Australia where the is nothing between the shore and Antarctica. The echo of winter coming and gone in this piece another comfort of the turning of the seasons and the ephemeral nature of all things.
Apart from the beautiful balance of this poem, what I appreciate is how David reminds us not to fight against what is dark or difficult or lost, but allow it to be what it is, allow it to live with us for a while, even live inside us for a while, and when we are ready to let it go it will continue to be itself while we are freed to think of what comes with the inevitable spring. It is a longer iteration of "this too shall pass". A lovely, full and flowing poem of hope that is great to read aloud, carried on the flood tide of language.
While he never seemed to invite her to his home, they spoke every night at 4:00 PM for 3 years.
The day after the day he didn't answer her call, she called me to meet the coroner at his home.
Two police officers and a detective waved me on around his 4 cars in the driveway.... one at least was Un working order and had
carried him to meet his love for luncheon dates, flea market scavenger hunts and the odd field trip to the beach or the mountains.
Inside the clutter seemed a testament to a life that had ended when his wife left and the last child mover out 20 years earlier.....3 guitars still in their shipping boxes, unopened toys for children of all ages, papers and paint cans and suitcases for trips never taken,
A newbie Police officer threw the lime green tennis ball for the black Labrador whom I surmised had stood guard for the past 10 hours, nesting on the pile of laundry near his body.
What to say? How to help other than just be there?
Gratitude and grief are two interdependent halves of the same prayer. One cannot exist long without the other.
So many of the comments with regard to 'Winter Grief' are so heartfelt I just wanted to post a thank you to every one for your poignant contributions. 'Winter Grief' was written for a friend in County Clare who was going through a long and difficult winter of necessary inconsolability. DW
That excerpt is stunningly beautiful in meaning and design. Brushstrokes of a master. The sadly sweet tinge of reality buoyed by the hope of release. And so it is… 🙏
How perfect for this morning, as I’m recovering from my 4th neurosurgery and watching the snow fall. This poem said it all in the most beautiful way, thank you 🙏
So that you can be
even more generous in your letting go
than they were in their leaving.
Bloody hell, David Whyte, you’ve done it again
What an exquisite reminder of the wintering of the soul - its late summer here in southern Australia where the is nothing between the shore and Antarctica. The echo of winter coming and gone in this piece another comfort of the turning of the seasons and the ephemeral nature of all things.
My mom passed away last year in February, and winter grief keeps coming unexpectedly. This poem has brought me so much solace. Thanks for every word 🙏
David you’ve been in my heart and soul again. For that intrusion and the subsequent healing, you have all gratitude one can offer.
Your deeply meaningful words were healing AND I was going to say a gut punch but actually more like a Heimlich maneuver that got me breathing again.
Apart from the beautiful balance of this poem, what I appreciate is how David reminds us not to fight against what is dark or difficult or lost, but allow it to be what it is, allow it to live with us for a while, even live inside us for a while, and when we are ready to let it go it will continue to be itself while we are freed to think of what comes with the inevitable spring. It is a longer iteration of "this too shall pass". A lovely, full and flowing poem of hope that is great to read aloud, carried on the flood tide of language.
Oh this piece is perfect. Every word sings the heartbeat of how winter feels! Beautiful this gift
Beautiful
Grief and gratitude
My friend met her soul mate at age 72.
While he never seemed to invite her to his home, they spoke every night at 4:00 PM for 3 years.
The day after the day he didn't answer her call, she called me to meet the coroner at his home.
Two police officers and a detective waved me on around his 4 cars in the driveway.... one at least was Un working order and had
carried him to meet his love for luncheon dates, flea market scavenger hunts and the odd field trip to the beach or the mountains.
Inside the clutter seemed a testament to a life that had ended when his wife left and the last child mover out 20 years earlier.....3 guitars still in their shipping boxes, unopened toys for children of all ages, papers and paint cans and suitcases for trips never taken,
A newbie Police officer threw the lime green tennis ball for the black Labrador whom I surmised had stood guard for the past 10 hours, nesting on the pile of laundry near his body.
What to say? How to help other than just be there?
Gratitude and grief are two interdependent halves of the same prayer. One cannot exist long without the other.
Thanks for sharing "Winter Grief"
I will send it on to her.
DMB 3/12/24