Trudi, you sound sad. No worries sweetie, before you know it, winter than spring and summer again. I must be a weirdo because this weather invigorates me. Lovely poem as always hun. 🤗🙏
Lovely poem and raising interesting points. I’m not sure if I’m bothered about who remembers me when I’m gone, more that if they do it’s good. As I age more, and do my normal reminiscing about my life, and I remember both good and bad things about people I want my memory to not be bad in the main.
Trudi, this is so moving. I can feel your sadness and love throughout this poem. And the question at the end feels like something we hold in our hearts.
It's beautiful that you can turn sorrow to art, Trudi. And also it is so healing for you. Though you have scared your audience and made them worry about you, I see. Aren't they lovely people that you gather around you? I think you have your answer to whether you will be remembered...But now to happier things. I'll go put a new song on so we can all dance! xo
The Field always remembers. That’s the part the mind forgets when the nights grow long and the body curls in on its ache. But your line “Who will remember us when we’re gone?” lands like frost on ancestral soil. It touches the real edge. Memory isn’t behind us. It’s around us. Inside the marrow of now. You didn’t just write a lament. You cast a mirror in the dark and dared to ask it for warmth. 🌒 Let the silence be the answer that sings.
Dear Steve, I am so sorry for your loss. Poetry often lands where it is needed. The friend I was thinking of as I wrote it doesn't have long left. I've written her a bespoke poem for her funeral, at her request. It was an honour to be asked. Look after yourself.✨
Trudi, you sound sad. No worries sweetie, before you know it, winter than spring and summer again. I must be a weirdo because this weather invigorates me. Lovely poem as always hun. 🤗🙏
Thank you, Jo-Ann. I was feeling sad as I wrote this - you always pick up on my mood!
i could feel this. Sending brightness and joy. Ease and light. Big hug and miss you
Thank you, Megan. You know this friend of mine. I appreciate you.💞
🤗
Lovely poem and raising interesting points. I’m not sure if I’m bothered about who remembers me when I’m gone, more that if they do it’s good. As I age more, and do my normal reminiscing about my life, and I remember both good and bad things about people I want my memory to not be bad in the main.
Yes, I agree Tamsin. We want to be remembered with love.💞
Time is not an absence,
it is a presence,
an endless stream of memory,
and in the end,
we will be just a memory
in the memory of other memories.
Rolando, I love your poetic responses. This is just beautiful.💞
Trudi, this is so moving. I can feel your sadness and love throughout this poem. And the question at the end feels like something we hold in our hearts.
Thank you, Kathleen. That means a lot to me.🤗
It's beautiful that you can turn sorrow to art, Trudi. And also it is so healing for you. Though you have scared your audience and made them worry about you, I see. Aren't they lovely people that you gather around you? I think you have your answer to whether you will be remembered...But now to happier things. I'll go put a new song on so we can all dance! xo
I need to listen to more music, Lori. A dance would be fun! Thank you💕✨
I felt the sadness Jo-Ann picked up on too. It didn’t feel like you when I first read it.x
It was me, feeling that lament for my friend, and wondering how a life so vibrant and beautiful could be reduced to such suffering.
I knew it was you, I meant the spirit I’ve come to know as yours is sunnier. I guess we all have our moments. Sorry to hear about your friend.❤️xx
Thanks, Julie. I appreciate that. xx
Ha! I think one of us will be remembered by the other that is left!
Deal!
The Field always remembers. That’s the part the mind forgets when the nights grow long and the body curls in on its ache. But your line “Who will remember us when we’re gone?” lands like frost on ancestral soil. It touches the real edge. Memory isn’t behind us. It’s around us. Inside the marrow of now. You didn’t just write a lament. You cast a mirror in the dark and dared to ask it for warmth. 🌒 Let the silence be the answer that sings.
Thank you, Dea. Yes. The Field always remembers.❤️
Really moving, Trudi. The loss of light is its own kind of lament.
Isn’t it? Thank you, Heidi.✨
You could have had no idea of how timely your poem is for me
Sorry but my partners sister has just died of a heart attack, last Tuesday
We are remembering her
A Eulogy poem will be
Margaret Meads Remember Me poem
Thank you for your poem
Poetry, your poetry always resonates.
Dear Steve, I am so sorry for your loss. Poetry often lands where it is needed. The friend I was thinking of as I wrote it doesn't have long left. I've written her a bespoke poem for her funeral, at her request. It was an honour to be asked. Look after yourself.✨
Thank you for your kind words
Hopefully not too intrusive but would love to read your bespoke poem, but would understand if kept for yourself personally.
Unless of course you will be sharing at the appropriate time in one of your posts.
Thank-you again
I can ask my friend if she would like me to share it, as I see it as her poem. It is about her life, after all.💞
Totally understand that
Please pass on my heartfelt wishes to her
As you might imagine I know what it is to be knockin’ on heavens door
Wish you well as well
I know 🤗 thank you, Steve