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The other side of loss, by Britta Benson

This poem is my response to Brian Vos’s Weekly Poetry Prompt on This week’s theme: Two sides of loss. Here’s the link to his page: It got me thinking about the time, two and a half years ago, when my mum died. A few months after her death, I helped my dad clearingContinue reading “The other side of loss, by Britta Benson”


Mum’s smile, by Britta Benson

This time of year, the days between Christmas and the New Year, is a time of reflection. It is also the time, when those who have passed away are most deeply missed. I do take great solace in remembering the happy moments I had with my mum. There are millions of lovely memories. Here’s justContinue reading “Mum’s smile, by Britta Benson”

More questions than answers, by Britta Benson

Truth be told, ‘More questions than answers’ could be the title for any given day in my life. Today is my mum’s birthday. She would have been 79. I went for a very long walk, and then, once I got back, I put a candle on my window sill. Doesn’t seem like much, but forContinue reading “More questions than answers, by Britta Benson”

The phone call, by Britta Benson

My mum died two years ago. Sometimes, in my dreams, I chat to her and we have long phone calls, from soul to soul. When I wake up, there’s always the harsh, awkward moment, when I realize, it was just a dream. There is, however, also the feeling of gratitude, that I had a niceContinue reading “The phone call, by Britta Benson”

The feather that found me, by Britta Benson

It’s the second anniversary of my mum’s death today and on my walk, I found a beautiful black feather. I think it’s from a magpie. My mum always used to collect feathers whenever she was out and about and for a moment I thought that she might have put the feather there for me toContinue reading “The feather that found me, by Britta Benson”

Another journey, by Britta Benson

I’ve decided to go away for a few days. Next week marks the second anniversary of my mum’s death and I feel, I need to be alone for a few days. This second year after mum was very different from the first and still, time is a fickle, unreliable companion and plays tricks on allContinue reading “Another journey, by Britta Benson”

I remember, by Britta Benson

I remember I remember the late summer sun rising the day she died. Mum was patiently waiting for worlds to wake up before calling it quits. She left us under beautiful, shimmering rays with the warmest caresses. We ate ice creams in the garden, flipped and flopped. She, a glimmer. Above. Always. Britta Benson