Hi everyone,
Sorry it has taken so long to write my W.O.M. poem, but here it is, inspired by KEN SLESARIK’s word for November — Grief.
The Hall, the Bridge, the Gate Grief is a stone-walled hall where memories of loss echo from steel-clad bootsteps. Grief is a bridge across regret to a place where perspective softens pain. Grief is a freshly painted gate, through which the future lies, when it's time to open it. (c) 2022 David L. Harrison
Children's Author David L. Harrison's Blog 
A critic tear-filled bridge from memory to peace. Kudos.
Thank you, dear Jeanne. “bridge from memory to peace.”
Wonderful!
Thank you, Su.
Hello David! What a rich and wonderful poem!
Hugs from here…
Thank you, Becca.
Wow!
Thank you, Veda.
so beautiful, David: way to go
& as to grief, I know you know,
& that you’ve born the ways of woe
so poignant & properly so…
Thank you, Cheryl. Been a lot of that around lately. I’m sort of ready for 2023. XO
yup, when 2022 is gone forever, I promise to do my best [in vain, more than likely] to remember its happy moments, but grieve?
nope.
Your word for the week seems appropriate in Virginia especially, sandwiched between UVA just down the road and Chesapeake where I once lived.
I’ve had enough of grief.
Parents, friends, cousins, strangers
Murdered, shot dead, killed by disease
and life habits each grief
Tinged with regret, sadness,
anger, the differences
Matter not, the result is the same.
I close the door in grief’s face
Stand it in a corner
Post it to outer Thule
The shadow remains
I do not look at it.