I wrote this 12 years ago after my friend lost his wife. They had a very young daughter. Today I noticed on Facebook it was the anniversary of her death and I had a vague memory of this poem. I never felt it was finished or right. Anyway, I post it for Andy and Cara-Grace and in memory of the lovely Donna.
THE PAIN NOW
They say the pain now
Is equal to the joy then
So I see these tears as harvest
Of the laughter planted when
I saw her as more than a friend
I took her as more than a wife
She gave me more than a daughter
She made my moments much more than a life
So I’ll bring you to her grave
Every year in summer solstice June
And trace her name across this tombstone
Beneath a romantic sunset moon
And then on the twenty first day
Of a leaf turning late September
The things your father will not forget
He will teach you, so you remember
When God gave the gift of love
Like so often he poured it out lavish
But it can be so quickly stolen back
At the hands of death’s demented savage.
Belfast – October 5, 2003
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