Every Time

An integral part 

Of life 

Is the simple fact 

Of death 

And how we deal with it 

Of course 

We run from it 

(Sometimes literally) 

Some ignore it 

Some question it 

Others study it 

Some rush 

To its embrace 

While others 

Do everything to avoid it 

Accepting 

Death is waiting 

Is not being defeatist 

It is just pragmatic 

If one lives 

One will eventually cease 

One will die 

And encounter death 

Along one’s path 

We must all deal 

With death 

I never want to get good at it 

I want it to hurt 

I want it to nearly break me 

Every time 

I want it to tear through my soul 

Taking pieces of me with it 

I want to be different 

I want to be changed 

Every time 

I want to weep 

I want to anguish 

I want to lament 

I want to suffer 

Publicly 

With others 

I want to cry 

Privately 

Every time 

I want it to shroud my life 

I want light to dim 

I want shadows to darken 

I want life's glory to suffer 

I want happiness to languish 

I want love to be pierced 

For some undetermined time 

Every time 

I know 

The light will return 

The shadows will fade 

Life’s glory will recover 

Happiness will rebound 

Love will heal 

Death will walk away 

Life will step back in 

Every time 

I will never embrace death 

I simply accept it’s inevitability 

Today 

I walk in the sunshine 

I savor relationships 

I earnest covet my friendships 

I luxuriate in love 

For tomorrow 

I may deal with death 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

August 2, 2022 

The Hole In My Heart

I always suspected 

Just how much room 

You owned in my heart 

The heart is a marvelous creation 

It is capable of being completely owned 

And yet, being completely mine 

These are not the first words 

Not will they be the final words 

Concerning the mysteries of the heart 

My natural heart has chambers 

For the various operations of life 

My metaphorical heart is much the same 

There are chambers 

Where the various duties 

Of living and loving reside 

There is the chamber of the spirit 

There is a chamber of family 

There is a chamber of friends 

There are lesser chambers 

Of work, of fishing, of a favorite place 

Of experiences, and of bologna sandwiches 

There are some things 

With a place in every chamber 

One such thing is God 

He is in every chamber 

He affects all things 

(Properly done) 

Then, there is the hole 

It is the great hole you left 

I find it in nearly all my chambers 

It is the room you owned in my heart 

Most likely, I always knew 

Just how much of my heart 

Which was occupied by you 

Whether I spoke it aloud or not 

I saw you often in my spirit 

No doubt, you were in my family 

You are my best friend 

You were part of my work 

You are my favorite place 

You are part of my every experience 

As I said, it isn’t really a hole 

It is someone in the whole of my heart 

The hole isn’t really empty 

It is full of the memory of you 

Right now, my grief is hiding this 

While it never disappears entirely 

This will, in time, abate in it severity 

The hole in my heart 

Will be replaced 

By the whole of my heart 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

July 29, 2022 

Jennifer Garner

 

Blue pencils

 

Drifting

In one life 

Memory is like a sea 

Always filling it’s banks 

Yet, always adding more 

Every person 

Every event 

Every day 

Every moment 

Today, we gathered 

In your memory 

I saw family and friends gather 

I saw memories shared 

I saw the goodness of a man 

Rehearsed by those he knew 

In this sea of memories 

I found myself drifting 

I had chosen no direction

I went where the sea directed 

I saw small groups gather 

Eventually to scatter 

Then regroup with others 

As the memories flowed 

I saw the parts and pieces 

Scattered about 

Begin to coalesce 

As the picture of you emerged 

This sea 

This ever expanding sea 

Filled the entirety of the house 

It carried our hearts with grace 

Peacefully 

I drifted 

In the sea 

Of memories 

We gathered to say ‘goodbye’ 

Yet, found ourselves saying ‘hello’ 

We gathered for a purpose 

Yet, found ourselves drifting 

Drifting 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

June 27, 2022

Found a red pencil on my desk

 

Dad

 

The ‘Missing You’ Space

You left a few months prior

To Father’s Day in 2007 

This is the sixteenth one 

Without you here 

I don’t know if I thought 

There would be a certain number 

Of days, or years, or holidays 

And suddenly it would be tolerable 

There will always be an empty space 

Time does not erase it 

Busyness does not fill it 

Acceptance does not alleviate it 

Thoughts racing through my mind 

Will always eventually find the empty place 

There are stacks of memories within 

Assorted sizes, lengths and weights 

Yet, there was room for so much more 

There were volumes still to be said 

There were holidays and birthdays 

And every other days waiting to be added 

Sometimes, especially days like today 

I will linger for hours in the missing space 

I listen to the echoes of our conversations 

I relive the laughs, the tears and the in between 

It never fills the missing space 

It doesn’t take away any of the missing 

But there is a measure of joy found 

Spending this precious time 

In my ‘missing you’ space 

I love ya, Dad 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

June 19, 2022 

Father’s Day 

Dad

I saw you tonight, Dad 

You were timeless 

I was as I am now 

I saw you from behind my eyes 

Where you live still 

Where you always will 

Where death is not final 

I saw you tonight 

Where memories

Where new stories 

Commingle freely 

While my body 

Fitfully slumbered 

While my eyes darted 

I saw you tonight 

Still stubborn 

Still carrying your joy 

Still smiling 

Lingering 

Even after I reluctantly woke 

Finding happiness 

Where I thought would be sadness 

I saw you tonight, Dad

Arbitrarily 

Without rhyme or reason 

Just showing up 

Out of the blue 

Bringing a pondering 

Obviously 

But most importantly 

I saw you tonight 

Dad 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

June 14, 2022 

Words

Hosea instructed the Children of Israel to “take with you words” when approaching the Lord. He further charges them to offer words covered with their brokenness.

Words 

Words change 

when covered 

with brokenness 

 

Words 

in their original state 

belong to everyone 

However, 

when you take a word 

carry it through the storm of emotion 

and personal experience 

it changes into something brand new

This newness 

transfers the ownership 

of the word 

These words 

now belong to the writer 

or the speaker 

It is in this sense 

we offer not the word only 

but the passions and experiences 

accompanying them 

By doing so 

we peel away 

the barriers of anonymity 

and begin to see 

our differences are small 

in comparison to our commonalities 

There is more which unites us 

than there is which divides us 

When we use words to divide 

we do them a disservice 

When we use them 

to hurt 

to incite violence

to tear down 

to destroy

we have abandoned 

the true use of the words 

 

Collect 

Build 

Unite 

Empower 

Words 

“Take with you words”

Covered in your brokenness 

© Ron Simpson Jr.

 June 4, 2022