Grief’s Garden
Tangled vines, shriveled tendrils that pull me down,
wrap themselves around my heart, crushing any joy held there.
Lacking any life of their own, they drain the same
from me, choking my will to fight their grasp.
There is only darkness in grief’s garden.
This is my response to How Does Your Garden Grow – dVerse Quadrille —
the prompt from Victoria at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use the word garden
in a 44-word poem, with no required meter or rhyme.
Oh, this is so visceral and heartbreaking. You truly encompass in this piece the theme of darkness and isolation of grief. Hugs, friend. Sending many hugs. ❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Lucy. Years past, I wrote a poem about grief, Winter Garden, in which that garden looks to the spring and the end of darkness. My mind is not there any longer, but since that poem was so important to me for a while a garden of grief is the first thought that came to me.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Good writing. Very evocative with a nice flow. You certainly nailed the grief!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, kindly.
LikeLike
Oh my aching heart this is poignant!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
I get the feeling that there might be brambles in your garden. Even grief can be organic it seems.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That it is. Thank you, Glenn.
LikeLike
An aspect of gardens I hadn’t considered–and yet we’ve all been tangled there. (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
We have, and sometimes we don’t realize just how tangled it is. Thank you, Kerfe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re so right, grief drains one’s life force 😦 You describe grief’s garden very well here Ken.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Lisa.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You have captured the grief in this garden.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Having been there, it’s a place I’d rather view from afar. The gift of time, I guess.
LikeLike
Grief’s garden can really wrap you up and drag you down. Well done Ken!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dwight.
LikeLike
This evokes the feelings of grief in such a powerful way, Ken. I am a bereavement minister at my church and I can see this helping people understand their loss.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This evokes the feelings of grief in such a powerful way, Ken. I am a bereavement minister at my church and I can see this helping people understand their loss.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Victoria. Though a part of it stays with you forever, understanding it is knowing it doesn’t have to hold you there forever.
LikeLike
This is such a powerful, heartbreaking image of grief. I’d never thought of a grief garden before, but those tangled vines that pull you down and hold fast. I can definitely see that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Merril. They do. It’s easy enough to see in the immediate moment, but, for myself, it took hindsight to recognize how much it had affected me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think that’s often the case.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh so true. It is hard to express the power of grief but your imagery says it all. Wow.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Mish. I’m sure that if I’d written it in the moment it would be much darker. Hindsight allows me to see I spent too much time there.
LikeLike
This poem pushed me to dark place. Kind of sends me to where I am today. Excellent.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Don’t stay long.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. It’s okay now. I’ve slept since then.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This garden is so sad… it reminds me a bit of the beginning of the Novel Rebecca and the Garden of Manderley
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve not read that. I’ve just put a hold on the e-book from my library. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the Hitchcock movie, but I understand there’s a remake coming to Netflix in October.
LikeLike
Such sadness. I want to offer my support for this garden.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. It’s that kind of support that lets people know there is more than just that garden.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I could feel the tendrils of grief grabbing hold. You nailed it. Beautifully done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Dale. Seeing the light outside of the garden was a gradual process for me, but it’s not difficult to see shadows of it, now and then.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful in message and form!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Acknowledging dark places can be important, but I’d rather not dwell in them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wise.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Grief is truly like tendrils wrapping around the heart. I don’t know if this is personal or not, Ken, but it is a garden worth exploring.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Sara. It has been, but now it’s more of a shadow that presents itself on brief occasions. When it does, I focus on the brighter moments.
LikeLike
You do write beautifully, Ken.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂 Thank you. 🙂
LikeLike
ah. you write as only one who has dug there, might know ~
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I had to wake to know I’d been there too long.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The sharp thorns and entangling brambles of a suffocating grief…powerful write, Ken.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Lynn. Fortunately, this one was seen in retrospect.
LikeLiked by 1 person