A Grey Mourning

A moment in life at its lowest

By Henrik HagelandPublished 2 years ago • 1 min read

Beach where Peters ashes were scattered. My own photo.

I wrote this poem in December, about a month after my husband passed away, just after I had scattered his ashes into the ocean east of our home.

I initially sent it to Rattle, but three months later, they declined it. I had almost forgotten about it, but now I want to share it with the world.

The morning’s foggy haze so grey
I hear the scream of hungry hawks
Raindrops gather on opaque hay
The morningś foggy haze so grey

Remembering that you’re away
Stolen by blackness - no one talks
The morning’s foggy haze so grey
I hear the scream of hungry hawks.

A poet, a writer of feelings and hope. A Dane and inhibitant of the Earth thinking about what is to come.

A good story told or invented. Human all the way through.

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