Grief Stricken

Good Evening,
The following poem is a very personal one for me. It was written, very badly, in the weeks of grief that I struggled through - after my father passed away. I never knew such despair, grief, anger, uselessness as I knew then. The poem is a bitter sweet memory of, how not to deal with grief, but for me personally to celebrate it. However, it is always a reminder to all, how much I still miss the most important man I have ever known. It is dark, but very, very real. I suffered agraphobia for a time after and at 19 years old, that was very hard for my already grieving family and myself.
Grief counselling was not available to me then, but to anyone grieving please use it if you can.

Greif Stricken

I sit on my bed and and I stare at my room.

Listen to my silence and wait for the gloom.

The gloom arrives in the darkness of night.

So I rise of my bed and I flick on my light.

My heart still pounds at thoughts of another day.

I just want to end it all but what will people say?

You can’t explain that the days turns to night. 

Then after that for them, once again it’s bright. 

That long endless existence that no one can foresee

Is my stalker now and it wants to murder me.

So once again I will lay down in my bed

Hoping that tomorrow i’ll wake up dead.

But tomorrow will come and again I’ll arise.

Wiping the nightmares away from my eyes.

And once again I shall sit on this bed.

My hands around my grief stricken head.

Waiting for the darkness my thoughts fade away.

And see your face clearly on our very last day.

By Helen Stallard 
February 23  2014