Because my heart is where you now dwell: A poem for those grieving beloveds

Because my heart is where you now dwell,
I try to make it beautiful-a spacious place
with room enough for blue birds to migrate,
where whole herds of elk can bed down,
and with fields so vast they hold
every memory of you-
not just the warmhearted memories,
but the hardest ones, too.
Those I hold up to the soft light of morning,
grateful for room enough to walk around them
and give them the space they need.
Those I hold up to the sharp light of noon
and say, yes, yes, it was like that.
I fill my heart with the scent of apple pie and cinnamon,
lemon zest and the river in spring.
Sometimes, when I am most vulnerable,
there’s a floral fragrance of forgiving.
I try to keep my heart soft. I try not to clench,
not to harden, not to set. I try to create
a place where you can rest, where you can stay,
where you can grow.
It is full of blank books, each one waiting to be filled
with stories of how it is with you living here in my heart,
this place where you have always lived,
this place even death cannot take away-
this place death has made more holy, more real.
--Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
*Title inspired by Leigh Gage

[@joannesnyder3717]

This place where death is made holy and real.... soooo lovely and true!! I love your hat my beloved poet!
Xo joanne

[@evermoreforall]

So very beautiful, thank you! Love your hat!!