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Softly, slowly, unknown to me,
my heart stole away
to dwell with thee;
side by side to beat with thine...
it could not bear alone to pine.
But deep in me
where the heart should be
is emptiness for eternity.

Fljotsdale

Hi Flots, this reads like deep grief for a loss, where something of you has forever gone with the object of your loss.

Softly, slowly, unknown to me

The title and first line intrigue. Did you say, in a thread where advice about music for a baby’s funeral was sought, that you had lost a child through miscarriage? I was wondering if that poem could be about that child, as yet unknown to you as they would grow to be, as well as being about how your heart ‘stole away’ without you realising?

I am put in mind of a saying, “Grief is something that grows beside you like a tree.” I think that has a lot of truth because sometimes you can grieve more for something, as time goes on, than less.

Diane

Dear Diane ~ I'm going to await Fljots's answer to your questions, which are very sensitive ones, before asking more. The growth of a tree beside you is a good analogy.

Dear Fljots ~ My feeling as I read this was that it was written, after a time, in response to your grief at the loss of your beloved husband.

Love,
Lizzy

Hm! No - not my husband. Nor my miscarried child. I still grieve for the child, but have never written about it. My husband is divorced. He was a violent man. 'Nuff said.

No; it was a man who was my friend. A very beloved friend. As I was of him. But we were both married, both highly moral. So the caring went far deeper than anything carnal may have done.

We 'fell in love slowly'. And he died. He told me he had a lump. I told him to go to the doctor, but did not say what I feared. But it was worse than I feared. Inoperable cancer of the stomach. About 20 years ago now. I still grieve. At the time I was hysterical, and had to hide it in public. I couldn't cry at the funeral because it would have distracted the caring attention of others from his wife and family. And I was very attached to his wife - a very dear woman.

The poem grew from that. Very short, but expressed a lot. I have another one, too, but it is very bleak, without the gentleness of this poem.

What a story that comes with this poem, Fljotsdale. I know that "husband" doesn't necessarily equate to deep love or even love at all. I'm sorry you had to endure that which you did, while you did; to only be locked out from someone who became and was your beloved.

"So the caring went far deeper than anything carnal may have done."
Yes. I'm glad you at least had this level of caring with one another.
" . . . a man who was my friend" ~ so important.

"We 'fell in love slowly'. And he died."
The contrast of this says it all. There must have been a great deal of anger, even if not recognized as such. They say that anger turned inward is depression. At least in this situation, it sounds like that could be true.

Have you maintained your connection with his wife? Such ambivalence that must have created.

Your description of this time in your life is heart-wrenching. Hysterical, but unable to cry in public, not even at his funeral ~ the one place that expressing deep grief is considered acceptable. A very, very difficult time for you to have endured. I'm so sorry, Fljotsdale. Life and death ~ both can be so hard.

Love,
Elizabeth

Thank you, Lizzy.

I always feel that I have accepted it, you know, but when I talk about it, I start crying again - just tears running down my face. Nothing really painful any more.

Angry? I don't think so. I was too distressed to feel anything else. And who to be angry with? Oh... I just realised... thank you, Lizzy.

Yes deep, deep anger, but not directed at him or his wife and family. She loved him, you know. I belonged to a religion at the time - he and his family as well. Very sincere, lovely warm people. And while he was dying - it took weeks and weeks - I prayed and prayed and demanded that god heal him. Of course, it didn't happen.

And although it took several more years, I left the religion. I remained a close friend of his wife all that time, and she wept bitterly when I finally told her I no longer believed and was leaving the faith. It was some months later that I stopped visiting with her. I could see how much my leaving distressed her, and I felt it better not to keep up the friendship.

BTW - If I had allowed my grief expression at the funeral, it would have been of the screaming, hysterical type. I HAD to keep it controlled!

Flojts, I do not generally write on poetry threads but I couldn't let this one pass. Your Poem is one of the most Honest and thought provoking I have come across in a long time. It punched me straight in the stomach and I went away from my computer and cried for my Daughter Annie who died some 13 years ago. It envoked genuine emotion in me, much the same as lyrics by LC, Bob Dylan and Christy Moore do.
Thank you for sharing it with us all (and thank you for sharing the reasons for it - it must still be so painful for you)
Ali
x

Ali, I am so sorry you lost your dear daughter. It is a grief I feel with you. I have no words to comfort you. I wish I had. (((Hugs)))

Thanks Flojts, (((HUGS))) back, your beautiful poem did me more good than you could know.

The losses are great here, on this thread. I'm so sorry, Ali.

Why I didn't think to express it in more visual terms, I don't know, but my warm (((Hug))) for you, Fljots ~ and my warm (((Hug))) for you, Ali. Even though the years have been many, there remains time, too; I hope healing will softly, slowly, come, unknown to you, as well. My hope for that, for you both, is for whatever degree you each need.

In such a soft way, you have expressed very deep and intense pain, Fljotsdale.


Love,
Elizabeth

Dear Fljotsdale,

Thank you for explaining the story behind your poem. If life were fair, and we all know it is not, your friend would have been your husband, as he was your life’s great love. To have had to grieve for him covertly on top of losing him is an agony I can only imagine. I am glad that you had his friendship for the time that you had it. My heart goes out to you.

Ali, it is incredible, isn't it, how a few words can access a deep pain and bring it to the surface as Fljot's poem did with you. I am so sorry you lost your daughter, Annie. To lose a child is one of life's worst cruelties. I love the name you gave her, by the way, one of my choices if I'd had a daughter.

I will, any day now, lose my cousin and life-long best friend. I started grieving for her loss, and all that she will lose, months ago. Hey That's No Way to Say Goodbye resonates with me at the moment, and especially the lines:

You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
It's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea.

What an emotional thread you started here, Fljots.

Love, more hugs,

Diane

Diane, Ali, thank you.

And thank you for sharing your own grief. It is not always easy to speak of those things that grieve us deeply.

I know what you mean about grieving for the loss before it occurs, Diane. I was the same with my friend.
I do hope your grief now softens the pain a little when your friend and cousin leaves you.(((Hugs)))

When you realize the feeling of emptiness you have already found something. This something can lead into deep sorrow, and then profound love.

Peter

Dear Fljots,

Thank you for this thread.

I'm going to dedicate this post to my Mum. They say that nothing hurts like losing a child. She has lost 3; her only daughter in a car accident and two sons, one to suicide and one to cancer. Suffice to say it has taken its toll on her. But she is a mountain of strength. Indeed it is Mum who probably showed me how to 'be' with G-d and Love. My mother often cries. Usually at night listening to soft music. She lights 3 candles in the evening in remembrance. She says it heals her. I know this mourning process will continue on. It is a part of her, but I don't think that tree is growing too big. Wounded, I salute her and all who lose loved ones. Life is indefinable.

Thanks

Boss

Dear Boss ~

Your simply spoken posting, though deeply tragic and terribly sad, is rare and beautiful, in the way you've chosen to use it to honour your Mum. She has suffered so greatly, and so have you. In reading this, I can understand, even more, your sensitivity and the depth of your commitment to life and love. Yes. Life is indefinable. Please accept my heartfelt condolences for both of your losses. I salute your Mum with you ~ and I salute you.

Love,
Lizzy