What is Done?

What is Done?

A Poem by icelandicblue

    What is done
    is never really done.
    Death is an interruption
    of love that has no place to lite,
    of conversations interrupted,
    and of a longing that is greater
    than any universe could ever contain.

     What is done
     is never permanent.
     As long as we are here
     to remember, to laugh
     to cry and reminisce,despite
     your empty shoes and chair,
    as the ghost of your laughter that
    once lit the room with silk and leather
echoes within us

   Finality is a misnomer, you are there,
and we are here, but gone you are not.
   We long for the corporeal as
   we cling to the memory
   of all you were,
   and all we became because

 love is stardust
it changes form but never its essence,
and that is why
what appears to be over is just beginning.

© 2020 icelandicblue


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Featured Review

I agree my friend.
"As long as we are here
to remember, to laugh
to cry and reminisce,despite
your empty shoes and chair,
as the ghost of your laughter that
once lit the room with silk and leather
echoes within us"
I loved the above lines. We shall remember the good days. I enjoyed the complete poem and thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry. The people we loved. Always in our hearts.
Coyote

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

icelandicblue

3 Months Ago

Thank you so very much. I appreciate you taking the time to read, ponder, and respond.
Coyote Poetry

3 Months Ago

I love your work and you are welcome.



Reviews

A most moving write about loss of a loved one. They are only a whisper away and the memories stay with us. Beautifully conveyed thoughts which left a lump in my throat. I hope to share this with my sister if I may, who has just lost her husband. Thank you.

Chris

Posted 3 Months Ago


icelandicblue

3 Months Ago

Of course and thank you.
.. 'the ghost of your laughter that once lit the room with silk and leather echoes within us ~
Finality is a misnomer, you are there, and we are here, but gone you are not.'

Some would declare that death is the end. Tis not.. tis a long tale that begins with different words and goes on in different guises. However hard to read.. at some point, time might help, might make sense. Our family has had losse. We wept and still do on certain days, but.. when sickness has been cruel to someone loved, can be we'd keep that person with us cos we can't bear the thought of.. an empty chair, unturned pages. Dear lord the pain of it all, the dark memories, the cruel memories. Yet there are so many more beautiful times to focus opon + one hopes so. We look at the past in other ways, see its ofttimes bending; the mixing of other shades, other possibilities. perhaps. That is how I see so many of your words.. I remember you from way, way back, inevitably shining light on this or that for your readers. Love IS stardust: beautiful, often fragile but.. more precious than..

Posted 3 Months Ago


icelandicblue

3 Months Ago

Thank you Emma Joy. Your words, they mean a lot.
I agree my friend.
"As long as we are here
to remember, to laugh
to cry and reminisce,despite
your empty shoes and chair,
as the ghost of your laughter that
once lit the room with silk and leather
echoes within us"
I loved the above lines. We shall remember the good days. I enjoyed the complete poem and thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry. The people we loved. Always in our hearts.
Coyote

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

icelandicblue

3 Months Ago

Thank you so very much. I appreciate you taking the time to read, ponder, and respond.
Coyote Poetry

3 Months Ago

I love your work and you are welcome.
I wrote this after my son died.

Posted 6 Months Ago


quite a long time ago i read one of those things that just kind of stick with a person .. it was said by a the Gunslinger, a character in Stephen King's "The Dark Tower .. the admonishment to not forget "the face of your Father" was central to what he was teaching his protege' ... our loved ones do not leave us as long as we remember them ... by name ... once grieving has reached acceptance .. we remember with sweetness along with longing and loss ... we loved them .. so we miss them all ... wishing you well Ice! glad i did not miss this new post ... will you be stopping by more regularly now? ... or just peeking in ;) love on ya! i do hope all is well for you

Posted 11 Months Ago


icelandicblue

3 Months Ago

I read that too. It was a measurement of what you had learned. “I do not aim with my hand; he who .. read more
Einstein Noodle

3 Months Ago

love the story and character of the Gun Slinger and his compatriots ;) .. read more
my dear friend lost her husband recently ---he was only 43 and they had been together 10 years, married for 7---
this would have been a perfect poem to read for his celebration of life that she held.
and she would love this poem and relate....she will always feel he is with her, and in spirit, he still is...and the love in her heart for him continues to grow.
j.

Posted 1 Year Ago


icelandicblue

1 Year Ago

Thank you jacob. The space looks empty but it isn't if we fill it with memories and love. Nothing is.. read more
This one is a beautiful affirmation of life and love despite the apparent interruption of death. It does not minimize the impact of the "corporeal" absence; rather, it refuses to accept the finality of that absence. "love is stardust/it changes form but never its essence". That is exactly the philosophy I have adopted: no endings, only change. Really liked the message and the clear, spare delivery. Everyone dealing with bereavement should have a copy of this one.

Posted 1 Year Ago


icelandicblue

1 Year Ago

Thank you so very much for your review. We must believe in something...this is mine.

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Added on March 18, 2020
Last Updated on March 18, 2020

Author

icelandicblue
icelandicblue

Boston



About
I do not accept any new friend requests unless we have read and commented on each others poetry. No exceptions. I have enough homework as it is. I expect reciprocity in our exchanges. Read my work and.. more..

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