It's a rather quiet month. Which is, frankly, a relief from the big pushes the last couple of months. So, I do have two different pieces of art at the Manitou Art Center 1st Amendment Show in the Intemann Gallery.
My father recently passed away. So, I think I will post a couple of poems about loss for your consideration. These are taken from my first collection The Reluctant Poet.
I stood among the grasses today
I stood among the grasses today
Their whispers swirled around me.
The wind pressed them to reveal their autumn secrets.
Yellow in their age, and yet
Resilient in their roots,
They looked of death and life altogether.
Golden in the sunshine
Brittle in their strength
Standing upright in their death
While making wave offerings
Of their generative seed
To be caught in the same wind
Which urged them to speak.
I could not hear their words,
But did I hear their songs!
It felt like death but spoke of life—
This falling down
This failing
This aging
This dying.
I stood among the dying grasses
And felt of life again.
This Kind of Grief
This is the kind of grief
That bends you over
And buckles your knees.
Someone Who Loved Me Died Today
Someone who loved me
died today.
She was the grandma I knew.
Red hair day and all that yarn.
Master of Tri-Chem.
Lover of dominoes, deep fried food and all.
I remember her house full of the stuff of dreams
—some broken, some mended, some never begun, fanciful pleasures, whims and sweet breath and beautiful music.
She played with undeniable beauty.
I was always transfixed—wanting so badly to play as she did, wanting her to play more, play again!
I remember the night at Aunt Nora’s.
I was a young girl laying next to her in the still, hot night, unable to sleep.
She taught me how to breath deep, slowly, to go to sleep.
She said, “That’s how I do it when I can’t sleep.”
Then I slept.
Her world swirled around her and
If it didn’t, she’d pick up the baton and lead the band in a march.
I heard some regret in her story-voice,
Regret that she hadn’t followed God all the days of her life.
But, that was followed by the peaceful words of very present grace.
I always knew she loved me,
Even when things were chaotic, distressing or delirious.
I always knew it because she always did.
Someone who loved me died today.
Homesickness
I forgot that this is not all there is.
How could I forget such a thing?!
Here, there are good things,
Yes, some good.
But it is always just shy—
Or at times completely absent—
Of the best.
I must acknowledge that I do not know
Most of the better and the best things.
I cannot know it now.
But I can taste it.
I can see it dimly.
I can catch its aroma.
I can sense that it is real
And lasting.
So, for now I will rekindle my homesickness
And remember that this is not all there is.
© M.R.Hyde 2026
