Poems
Written by families
For many people. writing or talking about their experience can be very valuable. We welcome people sharing with their experience or thoughts through writing. We have run creative writing workshops at some of our family days, where the group work on a piece of writing together, each contributing to it. The finished results are often very poignant, powerful and a real work of collaboration.
Written by families
We must trust in four letters,
Such a small word!
Brings us to where we stand today,
In HOPE and solidarity.
Without this word the future is bleak.
Unable to move forward.
Languishing, in limbo
We hold onto this word like a tenuous rope.
Gossip and whispers
Cloud our HOPE.
In the empty space between
Much pain and sorrow weep
We carry it forward,
A ball and a chain for tomorrow.
We exist around four letters
HOPE is a suggestion one day we may know.
Free to live life again
Deal with the sorrow.
We yearn for one thing
Knowing is all.
And therefore,
We live in HOPE.
Stillness and tranquillity
In the mind and around me.
Sparkle in the icy ground
And blue sky above me.
Cold blue waves
Against a white curve.
Solid in my hand.
See the crystals glisten
In the passing light.
Harsh and strong.
Edges to hurt.
Colours to love.
Gentle waves on granite.
Patterns to remember,
Like memories.
So many memories of you –
eyes shining with excitement
As you rolled down grassy slopes
Arms and legs flailing in the air
Or bicycle wheels spinning as you careered
into a patch of nettles
Those keepsakes that you cherished
Your blankie, a scruffy knitted bear
So many reminders
that you’re no longer here.
I wake and cannot catch my breath,
staring into empty space.
Boxes are stacked with your belongings
unwritten letters, birthday cards.
The music we sang together
plays on the stereo in the car.
A daily dull ache lingers
With these reminders
That you were once here
I imagine you returning
Giving me a warm embrace
Smiling shyly on the doorstep.
We would talk for hours,
share stories, filling gaps of lost years.
You would teach me how to paint
and I would teach you how to drive a car
And , with eyes shining with excitement,
we’d make new memories
One minute you were smiling
And standing at the door
You waved good bye and then you turned
Walking into night
Left me with one foot in the present
And one foot in the past
Your life, it was a gift to me
Your smile, still warms my soul
You haven’t gone away too far
My heart is now your home
“Just so you know, we found a bone
As yet, identity’s unknown
There’s confirmation to be done
But it could be your missing son.
We cannot tell you very much
It’s likely press will be in touch
It’s quite important you’re aware
You could be in the public glare.
We were lucky to find this
These things are so easy to miss.
And it seems strange that this was found
Beside a tree near the playground
By a lady and her son
As they went for their morning run
They were really quite upset
We haven’t checked in with them yet.
This could mean a big breakthrough
And could be closure now, for you.
We’re sure you must feel satisfied
At least you’ll know that he has died.
We’ll let you know if it is him
Like an Autumn leaf snatched from a branch on a windy day, you were gone
And our family tree was inexplicately changed in a blink of an eye
Left behind are keepsakes carefully cherished, residing in the only empty bedroom
Photos of days gone by adorn the walls and depict smiling faces and jovial gatherings
That last goodbye hug and wave farewell repeatedly recollected less it fade with time
Stories told on anniversaries and family gatherings to ensure those not there are included
Favourite places visited and silent moments of reflection shared to harbour the memories
Time ticks on with its relentless rhythm and apparent indifference to the hole in our lives
Anniversaries and family gatherings come and go, each negotiated without you
The reluctance to accept the new form of normal that we thought only ever happened to others
A momentary glimmer of hope from a fleeting look at a familiar face within a complete stranger
The playing of your favourite song or the showing of a much loved film brings a smile of remembrance
Daily chores interrupted by the unearthing of the picture you painted when back at school
Gathering and combining old photos into a chronological collage to hang on the living room wall
Sometimes I let my mind wander and consider what it would be like if you came back
There would be initial awkward moments followed by a tidal wave of emotional embraces
Many hours of questions asked and answers given, stories shared and pivotal events relived
Exciting introductions to new family members and remembering those no longer around
We would pick up on our old pastimes, playing new board games acquired, and painting sessions
The past would very much be the past and only the amazing future would really matter
And what an incredible future it would be, bright, happy and above all complete
I am driving Nina part way to Hastings to visit her dad, and we decide we will stop off for a walk, despite the gruesome weather. The chosen destination is Firle Beacon, a place with which we are vaguely familiar, from when Nina did the South Downs Way in 2020. It is the usual landscape, green rolling hills, a metallic structure at the peak for lord knows what, three hundred and sixty degree views, and miles and miles of country paths. Normally, you would be able to see the sea just east of Brighton, and look across to the other rolling hills of Ditchling beacon, as well as a smattering of villages and farms in all directions.
But today it is misty, and blustery, and I do not think I will see much. I am still in my post-operative recovery, ten weeks after my second hip operation, and I feel fragile on country paths. It is the mud, boot-sole-thick and squelchy, glassy and treacherous. I cannot afford to slip, so I have a stick with me, to steady my stride, and help me if I feel my feet about to slide from beneath me.
Nina gets out of the car first, as is her way, and is already stomping off with the dog in the opposite direction to the way I intend to walk. I am slow to get out of the car, used to shortening the length of walk I undertake to thirty minutes or thereabouts, and it has become a routine for me to loiter in the car for a few minutes, sometimes even longer, driven by my annoying but habitual need to check my phone, or time-waste by playing a game. Today, I am simply gathering belongings – hats, gloves, coat, the stick, but I have become slow and elderly in the way I move, and Nina is already at the first gate on the other side of the car park by the time I emerge. She is going against the wind, and later tells me she could feel it pushing her on.
This is a method often used to push through writer’s block. It frees you up and can feel quite liberating. It’s often called ‘free writing’.
Nobody will ever read it. You don’t even have to read it over yourself afterwards if you don’t want to. All you need is a sheet of paper, a pen, and a timer (you can use your phone). You can start with a 3 minute workout if you prefer and if it works for you, time yourself in 15 minute blocks.
The rules are: none of the usual writing rules apply. So forget writing in sentences, punctuation, spelling, grammar. Just write down whatever comes into your head. If you feel yourself getting stuck, write down flower names or fruit or animal names. As long as your pen keeps moving across the page, you’re getting it out and that’s the aim of the exercise.
If you want to, you can read it later yourself. You’d be surprised at what comes out. A word, a phrase, a thought may strike you. If you do read it over you might like to highlight some words. It can be quite powerful to do this and might just end up as part of a poem.
We usually journal in the first person. Again, it’s up to you as to whether you want to free write or follow the rules of punctuation, spelling and grammar.
For this exercise, try some journal entries in the 3rd person. This allows you to maintain a certain distance from what is, essentially your own story. It can be an interesting exercise.
Instead of e.g. “This morning when I woke the first thing I did was reach for my phone.”
This becomes “This morning when she/he woke the first thing she/he did was reach for her phone.”
Immediately it reads like a story about someone else, which again, can feel quite liberating.
The Way you…
There’s a writing exercise that gives you the beginning of a sentence, then you have to finish the sentence and this sentence then acts as the springboard into a story. You can adapt this to create your own poetry from your memories.
Finishing the memory: The way you…
Putting some memories together can lead to the basis for a poem. This might be an exercise you would like to try at home or with other members of the family.
Writing a letter to the person who you are missing. What would you like to say to them? What would you like them to know?
This can feel very cathartic and can also help you not only to ‘get it out’ but also get it out in public. It’s possible to keep your blog private but you can choose to share it. Be prepared for comments and bear in mind that you may be taken by surprise to learn that someone you know (or a stranger) is aware of whatever it is you have chosen to blog about.
Can be very helpful and some people find it has a therapeutic value, feeling that by sharing their situation and how it makes them feel, obstacles they encounter and things they find helpful, it might help other people.
There are a number of different blogging platforms on the internet where you can start up a blog for free.
By joining the community, you will help us to be there online and in your local community. You will be sent emails to safely share appeals for people who are missing. It is free to join and you can unsubscribe at any time.
