No Name For This

My dear friend, Laura, wrote this beautiful poem a few years ago. She has included it in her book, available for purchase here. I have been reflecting on it all morning long and thought I would share it.

No Name for This

by Laura Fabrycky

We give name to our particular griefs,

but there is one that we do not even name.

Each grief is a precious pain,

yet we leave one in shadow.

You see,

an orphan awakens to a parentless horizon.

A widow, sleepily reaches for her mate,

and finds an empty pillow.

A widower stares into

the pews at church and sees

pairs, like ducklings, and he is now

a lone drake.

But we have no name for this:

the mother from who death has

snatched her child;

an empty lap.

The father who leans at the doorway

watching the hospice care of his dying son;

parents who stare at headstones that bear

years short and early,

who wonder why they not only bear the joyous life,

but now must tend the memory flame-

we have

no name for this.