PUBLISHED POEMS
2007 - 2012

click on each title to find a poem:
# 01 - THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT - Summer 2007 |
# 02 & 03 - IF ONLY OUR CHILDREN WERE EASTER EGGS - Spring 2008 & 2009 |
# 04 - THE ANGEL CRIED - Winter 2008 |
# 05 - THE SILHOUETTES OF FATHERHOOD - Summer 2009 |
# 06 - THE TWO ASPENS - Fall 2009 |
# 07 - A WALK ON CHRISTMAS DAY - Winter 2009 |
# 08 - THE OLD, OLD BIBLE - January 2010 |
# 09 - INSIDE OF MINE - Spring 2010 |
# 10 - EARLY SPRING - April 2010 |
# 11 - A SOLDIER'S GRAVE - Summer 2010 |
# 12 - BLUE DOG'S JOURNEY - September 2010 |
# 13 - TODAY I CRIED - November 2010 |
# 14 - I'M NOT SURE WHEN IT HAPPENED - March 2011 |
# 15 - THE BOUQUET - Summer 2011 |
# 16 - LIVE THROUGH ME - Fall 2011 |
# 17 - ALTAIR - September 2011 |
# 18 - I REMEMBER - Fall 2012 |

# STORY 01 - CRYING OVER SPILLED SHAMPOO - Fall 2012 |

MORE POETRY PAGES

click on button below:

# 01

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THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT

# 1 of Published Poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2007, Volume 22 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT

I woke up early this morning
Just as the sun was beginning to rise.
I reached out for my husband.
He wasn't there, to my surprise.

I arose and went to the window.
On the porch was his shadowy form.
He was probably just reminiscing
In the misty veil of the dawn.

Silently I remained inside
Hidden secretly from his sight.
Allowing him his solitude
Outside in the pale moonlight.

His silhouette took my breath away.
The eerie resemblance of our son
The one that died many years ago
Leaving us grieving and so alone.

Quiet tears began to fill my eyes
With memories of life and joy.
Longing once more for days gone by.
Wishing my husband still had his boy.

I pondered in the stillness
The pain this man should have been spared.
I wanted to go out and hug him
And tell him how much I cared.

I dared not disturb his reverie
Because I know how I cherish mine,
So I waited inside just watching him
As the clock ticked away the time.

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder,
A whisper "You can't sleep either hun?"
I turned quickly away from the window.
Standing next to me was my husband.

So I gazed back out the window.
The silhouette I had seen was gone.
Then my husband said "It's okay sweetie,
"He's been out there all night long."

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2007, Volume 22 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 02 & 03

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IF ONLY OUR CHILDREN WERE EASTER EGGS

# 2 & 3 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Spring 2008, Volume 22 No. 1
and
Spring 2009, Volume 23 No. 1
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



IF ONLY OUR CHILDREN WERE EASTER EGGS

If only our children were Easter eggs,
Hidden safely in the grass,
We could search for them and pick them up,
And hold them within our clasp.

We'd have a Heavenly Easter egg hunt,
All with baskets in our hands,
Searching with a broken heart.
Only WE can understand.

"Oh, look I found your child over here",
"Hey, did anyone find mine?"
They are so beautifully colored,
And they sparkle and they shine.

These aren't your usual Easter eggs,
They each have their own special glow,
That comes from way down deep within,
Only a parent in grief would know.

We gather up our special eggs,
With excitement all around,
For the gift that we've been given,
For the treasure we have found.

We all now stare with wonderment,
At our children that have died.
We want to hold them once again,
And release them from inside.

But we all begin to realize,
We have to crack their beautiful shell,
The one that, makes them sparkle and glow,
The one they have earned so well.

We know we can't destroy their beauty,
And take them from their place,
So we give them an understanding kiss,
As a tear runs down our face.

One by one we take our baskets,
With our beautifully colored eggs,
And place them gently in the grass,
As we turn and walk away.

We look back in amazement,
As our eggs begin to sing.
We see them flutter and move about.
"Look, our eggs all now have wings."

Then the Golden Egg begins to speak...
"Your children are safe with me."
"You'll be with them when the time is right,"
"Together for all eternity."

We stand their in a circle of love,
As we look up to the sky,
Watching our radiant eggs take flight,
Knowing our children didn't die.

© 2003 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001
Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Spring 2008, Volume 23 No. 1
and
Spring 2009, volume 24 No. 1
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 04

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THE ANGEL CRIED

# 4 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Winter 2008, Volume 23 No. 4
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



THE ANGEL CRIED

I gazed up at the statue
As I stood there at her feet.
The Angel of Hope was saddened.
Then she began to weep.

I watched her as a teardrop
Streaked slowly down her face.
I looked around at all the names
Surrounding her in this place.

I thought how weary she must be
From carrying every child
Across the sky to heaven,
Away from us, ...for awhile.

I wondered why she was so sad.
She knew the children had a home.
It was then I realized that her tears
Were for us, ...here all alone.

I felt it was a miracle
That a statue really cried.
Then teardrops fell upon the names
Of all the children that had died.

I turned my eyes to heaven.
The whole sky was shedding tears.
I had thought that these were raindrops
For so very many years.

The angel cried with me today
So did the children's names in stone.
Their teardrops fell upon my skin
And I no longer was alone.

© 2008 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Winter 2008, Volume 23 No. 4
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

also recited at:
Phoenix,AZ Angel Of Hope Candle Lighting Service
December, 2008
AND
York, PA Angel of Hope Candle Lighting Service
December, 2008














# 05

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THE SILHOUETTES OF FATHERHOOD

# 5 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2009, Volume 24 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



Luke (age 9) and his dad (Robin)
after a day of fishing on False River in Louisiana

THE SILHOUETTES OF FATHERHOOD

The silhouettes of fatherhood
From another time and place,
Grief has cast it's shadow
On his cheerful father face.

The contour of his happiness
Created sometime long ago,
Darkened by his agony
And the truth he's come to know.

The profile of his peacefulness
Embraced in days gone by,
Shaded by his loneliness
And the many tears he's cried.

The shape of all good things to come
Yearned for in future days,
Blackened by reality
Of death that's come his way.

The form of his existence
In the life he thought he'd live,
Clouded by his pleading
That his life he'd gladly give.

The figure of fulfillment
From yesterdays desires,
Obscured by constant mourning
And all that it requires.

The likeness of tomorrow
Won't bring the things it should.
Soon he'll find the light within
The Silhouettes of fatherhood.

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Summer 2009, Volume 24 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 06

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THE TWO ASPENS

# 6 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Fall 2009, Volume 24 No. 3
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



THE TWO ASPENS

Once there were two aspens
Standing tall against the sky,
Taking in the warmth of breezes
As their leaves just fluttered by.

Then from those two tall aspens
Two more little aspens grew
In a grove there in the forest
Touched by the morning dew.

They gathered in the sunshine,
Then they quenched upon the rain.
Four aspens playing in the wind
Sometime before the winter came.

In the springtime how they glistened,
Then had the warmth of summer winds.
Little did the four trees know
This would never come again.

Autumn gave them golden leaves
As they stood so proud and tall,
Then suddenly a cold wind blew
And their leaves began to fall.

The wind was blowing violently
With a howling lonesome sound.
Then with an eerie silence
One tree fell to the ground.

The youngest tree lay cold and still
As the sky released the rain.
Then drops of sorrow trickled down
From the three trees that remained.

Raindrops quietly turned to snow,
Just as the barren aspens feared.
Autumn, spring, and summer... gone
And a long, long winter here.

© 2008 - Christine Ross
~ In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
Fall 2009, Volume 24 No. 3
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 07

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A WALK ON CHRISTMAS DAY

# 7 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Winter 2009, Volume 24 No. 4
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



A WALK ON CHRISTMAS DAY

I took a walk on Christmas day
In the cool crisp winter air.
The trees bowed down before me
And they whispered in my ear.

"Walk lightly on the pathway.
Tip-toe quietly as you go.
Remember all the days gone by
Of the life you used to know."

Along the path were Christmas trees
And stars and angel wings,
Toys for little children
But no children could be seen.

Bright red bows and Christmas wreaths
And flowers all around,
Big brass horns and jingle bells
Although they made no sound.

Manger scenes and ornaments
And little twinkle lights,
Santa Clause and reindeer,
That didn't come last night.

Decorations everywhere,
It was Christmas at this place.
All was well until I felt
A teardrop on my face.

I walked lightly on the pathway.
I tip-toed quietly as I prayed.
Then I looked down and saw it...
His name upon his grave.

"It's Christmas", whispered all the trees
To the graveyard names below.
And I remembered days gone by
Of the life I used to know.

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~ In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
Winter 2009, Volume 24 No. 4
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 08

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THE OLD OLD BIBLE

# 8 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
January 2010, Volume 25 No. 1
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



THE OLD OLD BIBLE

I found an old, old Bible
From two hundred years ago.
I read those old familiar words
From a time I didn't know.

Pressed between the pages
Was a lock of auburn hair
And a rose from some occasion
Of happy times or of despair.

Notes and prayers were tucked away,
With clipped ads for things to buy.
A page handwritten carefully
Of family members that had died.

Did some mother's trembling hands
Write a name upon this page
As teardrops trickled from her eyes
And left these stains time can't erase?

Or did a father write the name
Of his brave and only son
Who died in a distant battlefield
For some freedom we have won?

Did a mother die in childbirth
Or did a father die from plague?
I guess some family members
Died simply from old age.

The names were scrolled with pen and ink,
Perhaps by candlelight,
While heavy hearts... reminisced
Of days, and years, and life.

I read the Bible scriptures
And I wrote a little prayer
For their family and for mine,
For the pain we somehow share.

I cut a lock of my own hair
And I clipped an ad or two.
I placed them in the bible,
Right in the book of Luke.

I held a sacred flower
From the funeral of my son,
Placed it between the pages
With a note of what I'd done.

So I'll keep this old, old Bible
And I'll write my family's names,
And in two hundred years from now
Someone else can do the same.

© 2009 ~ Christine Ross
~Bringer Of Light Poetry~
In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
January 2010, Volume 25 No. 1
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 09

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INSIDE OF MINE

# 9 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Spring 2010, Volume 25 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.




INSIDE OF MINE

Since you've been gone my heart is blue.
But death cannot keep me from you.
For you live on My Valentine.
Your heart still beats inside of mine.

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published in
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
Spring 2010, Volume 25 No. 2
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 10

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EARLY SPRING

# 10 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
APRIL 2010, Volume 25 No. 4
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



EARLY SPRING

I feel him in the morning breeze
As it skims across my face.
I see him in the sunrise
As it brightens up this place.

I hear him in the thunder
Before the sky begins to drip.
I taste him in the raindrops
That trickle down across my lips.

I smell him in the fragrance
Of every flower that's in bloom.
But these things I just imagine
From the corners of my room.

It's winter here in my room.
There's a chill down to my bones.
It's dark, and cold, and dreary
And I feel so all alone.

The cold is a reminder
Of this frigid, frozen fear
That casts those icy shadows
Of death, and grief, and tears.

I'm hoping for the sunshine,
Fragrant breezes, thunder, rain.
But most of all I'm hoping for...
A very early spring.

© 2008 - Christine Ross

In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
APRIL 2010, Volume 25 No. 4
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 11

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A SOLDIER'S GRAVE

# 11 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
MAY 2010, Volume 25 No. 5
Bereavement Publications, Inc.



A SOLDIER'S GRAVE

I passed a soldier's grave today
And I kneeled and said a prayer.
I wondered if our country knew
How much this soldier cared.

I walked around the graveyard
Thinking of the sacrifice
Of those that gave us freedom
And in the battle lost their life.

How some had died so far away
While they served our country well,
How some of them died back at home
After surviving battle's hell.

In the distance I saw someone
Holding up a little flag,
Then they knelt and placed it
On the grave where I had prayed.

I heard them say "I love you",
Then they stood up straight and tall
And said "I'm proud to be the parent
Of a child that chanced it all."

I thought about this freedom
That can never be repaid,
And I thought about my only son
Not a soldier, but in a grave.

Although he died, I'm thankful,
And although his years were few,
While he lived upon this earth
It was "freedom" that he knew.

I possess this simple freedom
Just to walk amongst the graves,
And mourn the death of my own son,
Because of what a soldier gave.

© 2009 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
MAY 2010, Volume 25 No. 5
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.














# 12

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BLUE DOG'S JOURNEY

# 12 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
SEPTEMBER 2010, Volume 25 No. 9
Bereavement Publications, Inc.




BLUE DOG'S JOURNEY

Their eyes meet in the distance
Both running fast towards the gate,
Knowing who is on the other side,
No longer do they have to wait.

Blue dog's eyes begin to sparkle.
There's the one she's missed so much.
Flying through that portal,
To that old familiar touch.

That old dog is full of energy,
Her tail wagging back and forth.
Jumping right into his arms
Just beyond that heavenly door.

It's like they'd never been apart,
Not even for a single day.
Old Blue dog is young again
And ready to run and play.

They walk together in the sunshine,
They nap together on the clouds,
He plays his guitar like old times
While Blue joins in and howls.

They've found that place in heaven
Where a boy and his dog can roam.
In the clouds are two sets of footprints.
At the end of that journey home.

© 2008 - Christine Ross
~Bringer of Light Poetry

In memory of Luke and Blue

Published
September 2010, Volume 25 No. 9
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.











# 13

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TODAY I CRIED

# 13 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
NOVEMBER 2010, Volume 25 No. 11
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

   

TODAY I CRIED

Today, I cried
Because you died.

Today, I smiled
For just awhile.

Today, I laughed
And then I gasped.

Today, I cried
Because I laughed.

© 2003 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
November 2010, Volume 25 No. 11
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.











# 14

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I'M NOT SURE WHEN IT HAPPENED

# 14 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
March 2011, Volume 26 No. 03
Bereavement Publications, Inc.





I'M NOT SURE WHEN IT HAPPENED


I'm not sure when it happened
But I do know that it's real.
Somewhere between then and now
Something changed the way I feel.

I don't cry every single day
But these eyes of mine still cry.
And I don't have a need to ask
That same old question 'why?'

To know he lived a good life
Has given me some peace.
And I've accepted that he died
But his spirit never ceased.

Passing years erased the anger
Of loosing what was mine
By receiving lots of comfort
Knowing that... "it was his time".

The nights have been more gentle.
The dawn has turned to day.
I've finally embraced this pain
That will never go away.

Realizing I can't change things
I have buried all my guilt.
I've forgiven all the others
That didn't know the way I felt.

I've learned to live without him,
Just because I've had no choice.
His pictures bring me happiness
Just like the memory of his voice.

I've heard his laughter in my own
Although I thought I never would.
I've seen his smile in my own smile
Although I thought I never could.

That stabbing pain within my heart
Has turned into a dulling ache.
The breath I used to gasp for
Has quieted to a slower pace.

Those deep dark thoughts that haunted me,
The ones of death and fear and time,
Have found a special place to hide
In the corners of my mind.

I don't know when it happened
But I know I'm glad it did.
I have found the "peace in knowing"
That he died, but that... HE LIVED!


© 2008 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
March 2011, Volume 26 No. 03
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.











# 15

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THE BOUQUET

# 15 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
SUMMER 2011, Volume 26 No. 05
Bereavement Publications, Inc.





THE BOUQUET

I saw her in the distance
As she was kneeling down to pray.
Tightly clutching a bunch of flowers
That she brought for Mother's day.

The sun was just arising
Casting shadows on the ground.
As she cried there at the headstone
There was no one else around.

She arranged the flowers in the vase,
Blew a kiss from her trembling hand.
Then she turned her eyes to heaven
Saying "Please help me understand."

I watched as teardrops trickled down
And fell upon her lone bouquet.
I knew that she was hurting
So I gently wiped her tears away.

She shuttered when she felt my touch
Because she thought she was alone.
So I wrapped my arms around her
Right there at that granite stone.

I heard her sigh and saw a smile
Appear on her tear stained face.
She was glad that I had joined her
At this final resting place.

She stared fixated on the stone,
The proof her child no more remains.
Her lips whispered what was engraved
As she sadly read... my name.


© 2007 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
Summer 2011, Volume 26 No. 05
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.











# 16

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LIVE THROUGH ME

# 16 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
FALL 2011, Volume 26 No. 08
Bereavement Publications, Inc.




LIVE THROUGH ME

I'll learn to play piano
And Iíll play the guitar too.
I'll compose a song and music,
Because that's what he loved to do.

I'll drink a glass of chocolate milk
And eat a plate of spicy food.
I'll have a toast with all my friends
To lighten up the mood.

I'll watch a late night movie
And play some video games.
I'll share my bed with my dog
But I never will complain.

I'll take lessons in karate
And I'll whistle while I work.
I'll say a lot of funny things,
Then I'll laugh until it hurts.

I'll ride a roller coaster
And bounce on a trampoline.
I'll be a real daredevil
Doing almost anything.

I'll drive up to the canyon
And watch the sun set from afar.
I'll build a fire to keep me warm
Camping underneath the stars.

I'll climb up to the mountaintop
And ride my bike down from the peak.
I'll crawl down deep inside a cave,
Even drive right through a creek.

I'll hike up to the tallest cliff
And jump off into a lake.
I'll hear my echo through the night
While the wind takes it away.

I'll go skiing in the winter
And see the leaves turn in the fall.
I'll go swimming in the summer.
In spring rain I'll take walk.

I'll give a friend a heartfelt hug
And then share my deepest thoughts.
I'll try to help someone in need
So they won't feel so lost.

I'll pray there at the chapel
And be thankful that he lived.
I'll do the things he'd like to do
Plus all these things he did.

I'll look up high to Heaven
And I'll close my eyes to see.
I'll say.... 'You never really died,
Because you live through me.'

© 2011 Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
Fall 2011, Volume 26 No. 08
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.











# 17

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ALTAIR

# 17 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
SEPTEMBER 2011, Volume 26 No. 09
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

ALTAIR

There's a star the shines in Heaven
And lights a pathway in the sky,
For the journey that our pets take
When they have to say goodbye.

A puppy was born beneath this star
With nowhere to call a home.
He found a place in someone's heart
And no longer was alone.

He brightened the lives of those he touched
And was much more than a pet.
He gave his love and companionship
To those that will never forget.

His earthly light began to fade,
Then he saw that radiant star
And followed that path to Heaven
Where he shines forevermore.

© 2011 Christine Ross
~ in memory of Altair 2002 - 2011
Bone Cancer

Published
September 2011, Volume 26 No. 09
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.











# 18

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I REMEMBER

# 18 of published poems
LIVING WITH LOSS MAGAZINE
FALL 2012, Volume 27 No. 03
Bereavement Publications, Inc.

I REMEMBER

I remember...
holding hands,
walking barefoot,
summer sands,

baby giggles,
little boy eyes,
teenage laughter,
grown-up pride,

sleepy mornings,
stretching yawns,
midday naps,
afternoon storms,

glowing sunsets,
moonlit evenings,
whispered secrets,
midnight dreaming,

smells of Autumn,
hugs and kisses,
gentle touches,
birthday wishes,

rain in April,
cold Decembers,
treasured moments
...I remember.

© 2007 - Christine Ross
~ in memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
Fall 2012, Volume 27 No. 03
LIVING WITH LOSS magazine
Bereavement Publications, Inc.











PUBLISHED STORY

# STORY 01

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CRYING OVER SPILLED SHAMPOO

# 01 of published stories
GRIEF DIGEST magazine
July 2010, Volume 8 No. 1
A Centering Corporation

CRYING OVER SPILLED SHAMPOO

A few short months after the death of my son, Luke, I was showering with anticipation of washing my hair with a new coconut-scented shampoo that I had just purchased a few days earlier. I lifted the bottle and let the shampoo spill into my hands. As I closed my eyes the scent pulled me back in time, to the beach, and to the unexpected memory of coconut oil.... back to a time of Luke's childhood.

The scent of that shampoo overflowed into all of my senses. For just a moment I was back on the beach rubbing coconut oil on my little boy, and he doing the same for me. I could see his beautiful dark skin, feel the warmth of his tiny hands, hear his familiar voice, smell the wonderful scent of coconut oil, and once again I could taste the salty ocean.

I opened my eyes and in an instant I was drawn back into reality. it was then that I realized that the dark skin that I saw was only the back of my eyelids, the hands that I felt were my own, the voice that I heard was the sound of the water trickling on my head from the shower, the smell of coconut oil was my new shampoo, and the salty ocean was simply the taste of my very own tears.

© 2003 - Christine Ross
~Bringer of Light Poetry

In memory of Lucas Christopher Ross 1979 - 2001

Published
July 2010, Volume 8 No. 1
GRIEF DIGEST magazine
A Centering Corporation













"VISIT WITH LUKE"

Last Entry in Luke's Journal:

"When there is love in my heart and a smile on my face,
I need nothing else." ~ Luke Ross

"MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU"

Music playing:
FUR ELISE