From Grief To Art

I couldn’t see

Nor did I want to believe

Is this really the same man that I once knew?

Every moment of my life

I never did once cry

And it made me realize

That one day I too will die.

A striking fear

One that made me cry

I can’t believe that I never said goodbye

I always saw the man as I left

And yet it seemed that I couldn’t care less

Yet here I am, with tears streaming down my face

I was wrong,

The family in grief 

Hugging with permanent red faces

Like a disease it too spread to me

How blind could I be?

Blurred eyes 

As I cried

I smiled.

To die is to live

To live is to die

Though I regret never saying that final goodbye

I can’t stay sad forever

And so I turned my depression

Into a drawing of succession.

Hand twisting in several directions

The paper once clean is riddled with marks,

The pencil smoothly glides above the paper

And lines replace it soon after,

Looking at old childish drawings, 

Mimicking its style, but making it better

The pencil stabs through the heart,

Stopping at a specific feeling.

It has a mind of its own,

Following its own realistic style

Drawing fast with no hesitation

Everything coming together. 

Like pieces of a puzzle

And as the lines slowly connect,

As the sun slowly sets

The light that I use fades,

Like a flash of light

The drawing is complete.

Looking upon the drawing

I know that even if I die

I can live on

Not with fame 

Or with money

But sticking to what I do best

Creating my own world

Through the graphite of a pencil. 

This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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