This poem came to me as I considered, how long it had been since my parents died. And how the pain of it all still stings.
I could not help but think of Queen Victoria, who famously wore mourning clothes for her husband Albert, to her dying day. Even though Albert died when she was only 45. And she lived to 81.
As an English Major and fan of the Masterpiece series Victoria (the creator and writer of the series, Daisy Goodwin, is the author of Victoria: A Novel of a Young Queen,) I find her character pops up frequently in my writing. But Queen Victoria is certainly not alone in carrying on with her mourning, long after it is fashionable.
A toast, to those who have left us! May we never forget!
Thanks for coming by to read.
I’m wearing black
Nigh on two years.
Nigh on two years,Â
Of grief and woe.
A stiff brocade
And veil, two years,
To catch the tears
That splash below.
I cannot grasp
The past two years,
The gasping fears
That clasp my heart.
I shuffle sheets
The past two years.
A paper cut
Tears me apart.
They mock me now,
At near two years.
At near two years,
One should move on.
No monarch deigns
To reign her years.
In black, from morn
To dusk to dawn.
So shall I mourn,
For years and years,
My heart, as black
As my brocade,
For though it stoodÂ
One hundred years,
No Empire could
Your memory fade.
Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew
For an essay about the benefits of world travel, read Who Only England Know. For a poem on the plunder of India by the British Empire, read Tribute.
I know that sting of loss all too well, I’m afraid.
It hits us all eventually, Liz. But it is loss which makes us appreciate what we still have, as well as what or who we’ve lost. Hugs!
That’s true. I take nothing for granted anymore. Thank you for the hugs!!