Poetry for Grief

When you’re grieving, people often ask you, “How are you doing?” 

Of course, that is a difficult question to answer when you’re in the midst of an incredibly painful and confusing process. We often answer vaguely, “Oh, you know, it’s hard. But I’m getting through it,” or “I’m fine,” depending on the level of trust that we have with the person who is asking. Sometimes, we respond this way even with the people in our lives that are the closest to us–our partners, best friends, closest family members, and even our therapists. Sometimes it’s because we are too exhausted by grief to really “get into it.” And sometimes it’s because we are feeling so many things that we don’t even know how to describe it. When you are drowning in an ocean of grief, the words and reflections of others can become a life raft–offering you something to cling to in the storm. 

But reading while you are grieving can feel like a herculean task. As a grief counselor, it’s not uncommon for me to hear someone say, “I was such a huge reader before, and now the idea of picking up a book fills me with dread.” Often reading feels  so intimidating and the grieving person is too exhausted by grief to retain any more information than they are already taking in on a daily basis.

One way to find language around your grief and not have to pick up and retain an entire long book is to read poetry. For some people, poetry is intimidating. It invokes memories of high school English class, where you were supposed to analyze the form, imagery, style, and deeper meaning behind poems–all of which felt burdensome and highly intellectualized. 

But when you read poetry without an agenda, and simply let the words wash over you, the words start to make you feel instead of making you think. Sometimes, the difference between those two actions provides us with the exact relief we are looking for in our grief.

The poems that I show below all play with different images for grief, often images of the natural world. I propose that the reason why nature images come up so often is because nature knows how to ride the waves of growth and death without intellectualizing, analyzing, or fighting the process of grief. Grief exists everywhere in nature, and the changes that ebb and flow with the seasons can teach us how to accept both the subtle and drastic shifts in our own lives with tenderness and grace. 

Another reason why poetry can be helpful in grief is because it is messy. Poems oftentimes don’t wrap feelings in a pretty bow, or compartmentalize the experience of grieving to make others more comfortable. Poems are raw and tender and intense and soft, sometimes all at the same time. This medium captures the complexity and nuance of grief in a way that other forms of writing cannot.

By reading or writing poetry, we can create a space where we feel seen and heard, even if we may not yet be ready or able to share our feelings with others. Below are a few of my favorite poems that have soothed me in times of loss, and have supported my clients as they navigate their own grief:

Blessing for The Interim Time

by John O’Donohue

When near the end of day, life has drained
Out of light, and it is too soon
For the mind of night to have darkened things,

No place looks like itself, loss of outline
Makes everything look strangely in-between,
Unsure of what has been, or what might come.

In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
In a while it will be night, but nothing
Here seems to believe the relief of darkness.

You are in this time of the interim
Where everything seems withheld.

The path you took to get here has washed out;
The way forward is still concealed from you.

The old is not old enough to have died away;
The new is still too young to be born.”

You cannot lay claim to anything;
In this place of dusk,
Your eyes are blurred;
And there is no mirror.

Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
You know you have to make your own way through.

As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
That you might come free
From all you have outgrown.

What is being transfigured here in your mind,
And it is difficult and slow to become new.
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the new dawn.

Blessing for Falling into a New Layer of Grief

by Jan Richardson

You thought
you had hit
every layer possible,
that you had found
the far limit
of your sorrow,
of your grief.

Now the world falls
from beneath your feet
all over again,
as if the wound
were opening
for the first time,
only now with
an ache you recognize
as ancient.

Here is the time
for kindness—
your own, to yourself—
as you fall
and fall,
as you land hard
in this layer
that lies deeper than
you ever imagined
you could go.

Think of it as
a secret room—
this space
that has opened
before you,
that has opened
inside you,
though it may look
sharp in every corner
and sinister
no matter where
you turn.

Think of it as
a hidden chamber
in your heart
where you can stay
as long as you need,
where you will
find provision
you never wanted
but on which
your life will now
depend.

I want to tell you
there is treasure
even here—
that the sharp lines
that so match your scars
will lead
to solace;
that this space
that feels so foreign
will become for you
a shelter.

So let yourself fall.
It will not be
the last time,
but do not let this be
cause for fear.

These are the rooms
around which your
new home will grow—
the home of your heart,
the home of your life
that welcomes you
with such completeness,
opening and
opening and
opening itself to you,
no part of you
turned away

The Uses of Sorrow 

by Mary Oliver

Someone I loved once
gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that
this, too, was a gift.

We turn to professionals for so many other parts of the experience of loss, like funeral directors, faith leaders, or therapists. Putting language to your internal turmoil is an important part of grieving. We shouldn't hesitate to turn to professionals in this arena as well—the wordsmiths who have honed their craft in this messy business of meaning.