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:
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