Here is a poem I adapted from an article I read by the Vicar Janet Gaden reflecting on the death of her husband

Don’t tell me about the resurrection:yellow glow of candles on dark background

Don’t talk to me about the resurrection

Not just yet,

Until you’ve listened to me about this death

It all seems so unreal to me now.

Don’t tell me they are with God

I howl in pain, for they were with God here

And now they are not with me

And where else is God but everywhere anyway

Don’t tell me they are in the next room

Or over some horizon

That death is not the end

For I can’t see that far

For I am in the dark,

Come sit with me here

Sit quietly in the stillness

And let me simply breathe

Do listen,

Let me know what I have to say will be heard

Let me speak of my hurt to you

Let me speak of my deep pain

Tell me I can talk to them

And tell me they will hear me

Remind me that I know them

And that they know me

Don’t feel you need to speak

Don’t feel the need to rescue me

The silent contemplation

Is the greatest gift I have

Allow me to cry

The tears are healing balm to my aching soul

Allow the path to unfold before me

Let silence be the best wisdom