Death is a vigil
Kept leaning over every
Moment, a salient shadow
Stealing who is, who might be.
Life is the energy, activity,
Driving, growing, making,
Unfolding all treasure
Of experience and being.
Love is the music
Arising in the souls ready
To dance the hopeful steps
Of long-awaited romance.
Hands held, kisses longing,
Filling, gentle remembering,
Holding the tenderness
Of memories keenly made.
Take advantage of the times –
For they swiftly disappear,
The aching pain of absence,
What is lost and cannot
Be at any cost retrieved,
Over the passage
Evaporated years, opportunities
Missed, turned aside in life;
Finally, it sears the heart.
Grief is a cruel thief.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

The way this evolved was unique. I was reading a short story in which a character was sitting at a dying relative’s bedside. The line, “Grief is a thief,” came to me. It resonated with me. So the poem began with death and worked round and about to the line with which I ended.

I did a small portion of it in my journal. I left for several hours and came home to type it in. As often happens, much of it changed in the process. I hope you enjoyed it, even with the darker notes.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative; please follow the site, or return often.

At this point, I am considering whether to continue my vow to post every day into 2021. Some days I am quite mystified over what I will write. 2020 has been very productive. There was even a month I posted 75 times. This is not my first engagement of this sort. If you visit my Chronicles site, you will see what I mean.

As a prompt, I challenge you to evaluate your creative life and see if posting every day of 2021 might move you to be more productive. If not every day, more than you currently do, would be an improvement.