The Love that Remains
Remembering my beloved dog, Sierra
Even though a year has now
Come and quickly gone, since you
Left,
I still ache to see you and
Pet your soft and furry head;
Sierra, even death can't
Eclipse the love that remains.
*
*
*
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I am afraid sometimes that the hurts to our hearts across the years never really heal- they simply fade from memory, or are jostled out of the front of our minds by other (apparently) more pressing or painful matters. In this poem, I am reflecting on grief as 'love perservering,' as the writers of WandaVision so aptly put it.
Each line in here is intentionally seven syllables; supposedly, one gets a dogs approximate age in 'dog years' by multiplying their actual age by seven. I liked the idea of honoring that with the syllable count (though the actual science of 'dog years' is, naturally, unreliable!!) The exception to the pattern is of course the third line, which I wanted to keep at only one striking syllable as a means of reflecting the difficult and abrupt change that a loss creates.
Thank you for reading! If you have ever lost a pet, I hope you too can find the comfort and processing you need, when and how you need it. <3
About the Creator
Gabriel Huizenga
Twas for love of words that I first joined this site:
Poetry, essays, and dear short stories too;
For to live one's best is to read, and to write!
So find me in words here, and I'll find you 💙
Thanks for stopping by! :)
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
Comments (6)
Sierra was the most lovely and loved pup. This is a wonderful tribute to her <3
Beautiful and so intentional in stylistic choices! Dogs are such a gift and leave such a hole when they’re gone.
I'm so sorry for your loss 🥺 I love how the syllable count represented dog years. Your Acrostic was so poignant and touching.
Holy cow, 7 7 - wow. I “talk” to my numerous passed pets every day. Very hard sometimes without them and every place reminds me! Great eclipse poem, I loved it. 😍 Feel better… 🤗
This is a beautiful and moving elegy to Sierra and a wonderful entry to the challenge. I love the use of eclipse in the final line, Gabriel. It is so apt!
Beautifully done and what a tribute