The chair, your pillow:
all is empty and time moves on
discriminating all beauty
but slower than life. Days have no end.
The whisper shell is silent
and the sea withdraws
to show death in the sand.

I am your widow, no
still your wife aware of you.
There is no possible denial.
Yet, where are you now?
Where is your soul and where am I?

We stand on both sides
of a fence
and you walk on
as I can not
and you can’t stay
and I can not.

And from the sea
some footprints go
into the past.
Away. Away
and further on.


Comments on: "Lost" (24)

  1. Lovely, and heartbreaking,

  2. Beautiful and tender as always. Part of him lives always in your heart and memories. Within them he walks where you walk and sits where you sit. He will always be with you as you are with him. The inspiration we gain from others lives on in us long after their physical presence has moved on. My thoughts are with you x

  3. Very beautiful Ina. Thank you for sharing it with us.

  4. This is heartbreaking Ina, and very brave. All our thoughts go out to you.

  5. Davif said:

    Lovely image of the sea there at the end, because it too lingers in the brain.

  6. nettie Schroders. said:

    Ina, wat een mooi gedichten wat goed hoe jij met je gevoelens om gaat.Ik vind het ontzettend knap hoor, we weten allemaal dat het leven verder gaat. En het zal echt niet gemakkelijk gaan dat begrijp ik. Maar ik vind je een kanjer. lieve knuffel van mij Nettie

  7. “Away. Away and further on…” and though grief does not go away, it makes possible an even greater belief in the power of love. My thoughts are with you, Ina.

  8. Bravely written, {Ina}, and utterly beautiful. XO ❤

  9. I’m so sorry, Ina. My heart goes out to you. x

  10. A powerful poem, Ina. I think, as we go through times of unbearable turmoil, the insight buried in this poem is absolutely true. American Indians have a saying, sometimes we sit on one side of a hung blanket, then we go to the other side, but no one can see what’s on the other side. I’m not sure I’m getting the saying exactly right, but the sentiment is the same, and the painful sadness that aches into days and nights of breathing, making life more limiting than it seemed before, is at least partially about this going on to the other side and the pain of being unable to see what that really means.

    This is the key stanza in your poem:

    I am your widow, no,
    still your wife aware of you.
    There is no possible denial.
    Yet, where are you now?
    Where is your soul and where am I?

    The power of those first two lines, “I am your widow, no, still your wife aware of you . . .” sums up the dilemma of a deep love lost. “There is no possible denial.” When death comes it comes like Ethel wrote in one of her poems after we lost our son:

    I’ll tell you
    what it’s like.

    It’s like a train
    and rolling
    over you.

    You can’t get
    out of the way
    stop the train
    it’s too late.

    All you can do
    is take it —
    let it run over you,
    let the train
    finish its job.

    And the question is, “where are you now?/Where is your soul and . . .” perhaps more powerfully, “where am I?” Because the truth is, we don’t know. We can’t know. Love is still there. A widow, as you say, is “still your wife aware of you . . .” but there is something else in all of that, something broken that, if human experience is to be believed, will end up healing somewhat, but will always be there. “Where is your soul, and where am I?”

    The final stanza has an appropriateness that summarizes the poem and the power of the poem:

    And from the sea
    some footprints go
    into the past.
    Away. Away
    and further on.

    “Away. Away/and further on.” We are standing in the present looking at footstep going into the past and realizing the blanket. What powerful, powerful, true poetry, Ina. May the song of who you are and who you have been in love be with you as you walk the beaches and watch the ships and animals of your island.

    • Thank you very much Thomas for this wonderful comment. As you know, the loss of a dear one causes a deep pain, but still we have to live on and find meaning. I try to do that too.

  11. we will never know where they go, or if they hear us and our tears, those we have lost…sometimes we wonder how it’s possible to go on without them…but we do, somehow, hours, days, weeks, years, and then suddenly they are there with us and asking to be free…

  12. Ina, this poignant poem brought tears to my eyes.

    My belated condolences and sympathy for all you’ve been through.


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