Paul’s Gift in Verse

One of our Channel Erik family members wrote a lovely poem in honor of Erik. For me, it was enough for Paul to share his wisdom with us, so this is simply the icing on the cake. Read this one carefully and think about a loved one when you do. The words will tug at your heart strings. I suppose the only good thing about grief is that its intensity is directly proportional to the love we have for those we have lost. The love we feel for them and the love they feel for us is like never-ending ripples across our soul, our heart and the deep pool of tears that endeavors to drown us every day. As I reread this, I will think about all of our precious angels who wait behind that thin but stubborn veil for until the time we will join them in a warm and joyful embrace. For them, it’s but a blink of the eye, but for us, it seems like an eternity. Thank you, Paul. We love you.

Dear Elisa,
I wrote a poem in honor of you and your son.  I hope you like it. Love, Paul

Ripples

Green mountains jut into the sky,

like conical zigzags touching the firmament,
seabirds float on the air defying gravity.

Ocean liner cuts a path through the fjord,
creating waves that start from the bow, splitting off port and starboard,
until the waves become ripples gently kissing the shore.

When I think of your life in the quietude of my mind I wonder what it all meant.
You rode waves with recklessness until the whitecaps broke,
throwing you upon the sand, you laughing all the while.

Oh, if you were the darkness found at night in a pitch black sea,
I was the lighthouse beaming rays unto the briny sea,
hoping you would raise your eyes and find me.

Didn’t you know that the stars above shone just for you,
illuminating the hole that you had fallen into?
Didn’t you know that my love was a light surrounding your soul?

I watch as ripples generate out, gently vibrating,
becoming smaller and smaller, until their energy is spent.
Can anyone hold a ripple in their hands or hold it close to their breast?

For your life was like a stone skipped upon a pond,
creating momentary ripples that quietly fade
as day tenderly becomes night.

I watch as the ripples of your life awash upon my heart,
cutting through the impenetrable void
that threatens to swallow me whole.

Don’t you know,
my tears are like a river that cuts a path
through the fjords of my heart?

For I may not be able to capture a ripple nor hold it close to my breast,
but deep inside of me a stream flows
having snared the ripples of your life.

Oh my child, my sweet boy, my grief has turned into joy
for your darkness has become light.
For your ripples now vibrate in search of broken hearts.

Oh my child, my sweet boy, as long as I shall live,
the ripples of your life will break softly upon the shore,
tenderly capturing the souls lost in a whirlpool of hopelessness.

I watch as your ripples cut a path through the fjord,
you ride the waves with such joyful recklessness,
until you are thrown upon the sand, you laughing heartily all the while.

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Elisa Medhus


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