A simple, timely reminder

A simple, timely reminder


Picking heavy steps

towards the gate.

A soul bereft,

eyes blinking rapidly,

dragging threadbare scraps of sorrow.

A heart ambushed

by an unbidden, unexpected memory.


How can life

be there

one day,

and not the next?


A flutter of softened taffeta

a glimpse of black and yellow



the edge of my vision.



dusky velveteen wings

tipped with sunshine yellow.


A gathering of butterflies



flitting leaf to leaf,

amidst rainbow crystals,

glinting droplets,

called to this

butterfly gathering hibiscus bush.


Brushing the layers

of crushed cotton pink petals,

their delight

penetrates the moleskin cloak,

veiled around me

designed by grief

woven by mourning.


A gathering of butterflies.



frayed sunshine

remnants of gladness.


A simple





Remembering my father, who died one year ago today.


A gathering of butterflies

A gathering of butterflies

13 thoughts on “A simple, timely reminder

  1. dear Philippa,

    what a beautiful poem to honor the grief I know is making your heart ache on the anniversary of your Dear Father’s death. I am so very sorry for your loss. I am glad you saw those butterflies – beauty of the natural world standing steadily and truly along grieving to ease the pain a bit and comfort you. holding you close to my heart, dear one…

    with much love and light,

    Karen XOXOXOXO

    • Thank you Karen – I know you understand the rawness of loss, and the importance of those little moments which just divert out grief and help to lift us out of the space for a little.

      Very warm wishes and much love and sunshine to you

    • So true, Lois – it is such a strange thing, feeling that incredible depth of being left alone when both parents have been taken. I just found it so hard to imagine a world without my father in it as he had always been in my life. thank you so much for your understanding.

  2. thank you for sharing your grief in a way that brings awakening and, even, joy, in the reader. and then the other emotions can flow in. too complex for description, but, maybe there out in the field or on the lake, one can sense that raw emotion without filter. and they are there . . . waiting . . .

  3. Pingback: Weekly Round Up | Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer

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