Lived On

 

On that day,

The grey converged upon them all,

Without acknowledging the ever-present sun,

The bleak persevered.

 

I’d meant something to them all.

They remembered me,

The good, not the bad.

 

The loves that existed before,

Continued on in deep mourning,

Guilt floating from their souls,

Infecting the rain-clouds around them.

Their devotion persevered.

 

They longed to make things right in death

That were wrong in life.

 

The family that wasn’t so present

In my present,

Trailed behind,

Carrying watery bags of melancholy,

Regret spilling out of their every step.

Their obligation persevered.

 

Where they hadn’t considered me before,

They did now that I was gone.

 

The friends, more family than

Actual relatives,

Grieved unyieldingly,

Without comfort.

For they had my heart when I lived,

And in my death, I clung to theirs.

Their adoration persevered.

 

Forgettable as I thought myself,

In their hearts,

In their lives

I lived on.

 

I lived on.

 

On that day,

The light imposed upon the dark,

But wasn’t nearly enough

To wash out the pain.

And although I was gone,

They remembered me.

 

Author's Note

I was in a weird mood, and here's what I came up with.

Reviews

[Charles D. Moorer]

Sometimes weird is good I like this poem. It makes you think of how you will be remembered and by whom. Who will falll out over your casket and make a scene. I often wondered, aside from the religious dogma we are taught, if we live on only because someone remembers our name or thinks about us. I believe some tribe in Africa has something like that in their religious cosmology, anyhow. Moving on.
Some suggestions: Gray or Grey
Sounds redundant: Continued still or Continued, still - make a difference in meaning.
Why not? The good, not the bad

[Jessica Elaine Stevens ..]

The opening stanza made me fall in love- a little like, you had me at hello. I love "the bleak persevered" and the way you continued that theme throughout the poem. My favorite tidbit of imagery is the "bags of melancholy" and regret spilling with every step. My favorite thing about your poetry is how clear you are, and yet still perfectly poetical. it reads like a story and as a poem without being too much of either. And I'm sure we've all sat around sometimes and pictured our loved ones and the way they would be after we were gone...

[Constance L. Hartwell]

This is the second time I read this and it is still a wonderful write. If this is what you come up with in a weird mood, you must create masterpieces when you're totally normal lol all jokes aside, I enjoyed this piece even after the second round.

[Shellie]

I agree with bc's review...the inevitability that you write about is tragic sad but the fact you were remembered. in those simple words theres alot of emotion and truth.

[bey]

not a weird poem. in the sadness of whats inevitable, you wrote a very soft and lovely piece.

i like it.

[Melissa Kesead]

Very sad but unfortunately true sometimes