I share with you all the textual, written form of my poem that I had published as a spoken word piece few weeks ago. So here it is, FROM HERE TILL ETERNITY.


I know

I know

and I’ve seen it in my mind’s eye.

That the eyes of God are in the sun.

But where do your wings fly away

Do they settle on the cornea

or on the side of the pupils?

Looking at me,

in my sundry states of grief.

Where do your souls fly away

Where do my birds’ souls fly away

To rest around the cornea

or do they settle for the pupils?

The omnipresent, all-seeing eye.


I’ve gone a year

without wearing a wrist watch

I’ve gone two months,

without shedding a tear.

Is it all a part then,

of the grand scheme of things?

Is there a parallax view

A door of perception

A bright or dark side of the moon

A mirror,

convex or concave?

that shows my face to you,

and how I grieve,

without shedding a single tear.

I buried you here,

among the plants,

among these shrubberies.

I’ve asked questions that needn’t be.

Do the eyes of God watch me,

from the far side of the sun?

Does S/He try to inculcate

the factual era of life?

Do those eyes tell me,

that I am a loner now.

Do I have to be something better

than the one who grieved?

I haven’t shed a tear,

yes I know that.

I haven’t got the chance to say,

‘how thoroughly I miss you’

You’re my children,

my babies.

I knew I was losing you.

I also knew that I could’ve revived


with more prayers.


Do the prayers work,

in the eyes of God?

Or do they just melt away

like forgotten glaciers?

Do the eyes of God really rest

by the sun?

Do they really hold a mirror?

Concave or convex,

shifting directions,

shifting the tides of grief.

Shifting the idea

that you’re no longer with me.

My three babies,

who I took in the palm of my hands

and placed on the womb of mother


I’ve gone a year,

without wearing wristwatches.

I’ve gone three months,

without telling anyone.

Your loss is not only irreparable,

it is touched by divinity’s grief,


Where lies divinity,

where lies my soul?

Do your souls fly away,

do they see me,

down under?


I hope I get a glimpse of you,

by the skies

or by the night stars

and you tell me

that you’re ready for an incarnation,

to settle right into these same hands.

The bonds of affection we stored

and the threads of love,

complete and everlasting,

prosperous and eternal.

I say, ‘I miss you’

I say, ‘I love you’

My three babies,

my three birds of resurrection.

I hope before Christmas,

you give me a signal,

a sign,

that the eyes of God are where you


and I will rest in contentment,

knowing that someday

we will fly together.



  1. Hi PJ:

    I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE!!!! It speaks to every movement and flight of my so-broken-so-thriving-so-repairing heart. The references to God’s Eyes and mirrors made me think of this Bible verse, which is one of my favorites: “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). It has two titles of two Ingmar Bergman films in that one verse, so there’s that, but it also tells me that I can only be known in part right now, that I can only see through a glass darkly, and that my often strive for perfection is fruitless on this earth plane, for only part can I and others be known and only part can I and others see one another because “through a glass, darkly.” And speaking of “grief,” I was just working up a Bible lesson for the Bible study tomorrow from the Book of Job, Chapter 3. I don’t know if you ever read this chapter, but talk about grief! WOW! Job knew a grief that so few of us will ever know….prayerfully. I have certainly had my share of grief and it has been a grief of double-digit suicide attempts and what Job asked God through Chapter 3 is the same thing I asked God (or whoever!) during all those horrible and turbulent times, “Why was I even born? I curse the day I was ever born?” Chapter 3 of Job would have made a great film for Ingmar Bergman to direct, because Bergman understands the depths of grief, particularly the failing to connect deeply with one another and the failing to reach deeply one another which both can produce unbelievable grief. I know your grief in this poem was about your three feathered and resurrected children, so please know that my heart bleeds for you that you had to go through all this but also please know, great love when it has left us will cause us great grief. It just means we loved THAT MUCH and we were loved THAT MUCH!!!!

    Love and blessings always, dear friend!


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