There will come a day when the sun no longer
Shines,
She will have been ripped and scorned
By a force not benign,
The sky will close up with scores
Of infinite grey,
And you will burn with the pain
Of him having passed away,

There will come a day when the leaves no longer
Grow,
They will have been plucked and fallen
Down the darkest hole,
The branches will droop diminished
And you will sacrifice your hope
Of saving his last few minutes,

There will come a day when the wolves no longer
Howl,
They will have taken their prey already
And stuffed their mouths,
The burrows will disintegrate
And you will begin to breathe and
Not suffocate,

There will come a day when you can no longer
Grieve,
You will have come to the understanding
That this is very real,
Your heart will flourish once again
And you’ll begin to find the strength
In your very core,

This is not the end, I promise,
Even though he is not here
Anymore.

“This poem was written two months after my nan died and a few days after my grandad died. It was inspired by “Perhaps (To R.A.L)” by Vera Brittain.

I am nineteen years old for Dublin, Ireland. I began writing poetry at age thirteen and since then I have been highly commended twice and shortlisted once in National Student Poetry Competitions. I have also been published twice in White Ash Literary Magazine. I currently write humorous and serious articles for a few well known Irish websites but poetry is my haven, it allows me to explore and dissect my thoughts more than any other form of writing.” – Hazel

Lara Wilson

Lara Wilson

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Lara holds a B.A. in Comparative Literature. She's a native New Yorker, an after-school English tutor, and a bookworm.
Lara loves photography and horseback riding.
Lara Wilson

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