(Depositphotos.com)‘The Sound of Dirt’: A Poem by Gigi Ryan The Society April 18, 2024 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 26 Comments . The Sound of Dirt in memory of my granddaughter, Valerie (March 30, 2020 – April 20, 2020) Above uneven chairs a canopy Protects the mourners from the blazing heat. It does not shield from view the pile of dirt That yesterday was six feet in the earth. The canopy can not keep bugs or bees From their persistent and provoking deeds, It seems insulting; these unwelcome guests Give no thought to the untimely death. Most of the mourners do not fit beneath The canopy. They stand out in the heat Wanting to support the suffering; Their presence being their love offering. Her uncles lower ropes that had been bound Around the casket into the cool ground. A shovel then is passed from man to man To return the dirt to earth again. The stillness of this somber afternoon Is jarred as every shovelful is strewn Onto the casket thump by thump by thump. No one says a thing, but one by one They hug each other; there are no good words. They leave the canopy and walk towards The waiting cars. Death has made its claim. None of them will ever be the same. . . Gigi Ryan is a wife, mother, grandmother, and home educator. She lives in rural Tennessee. NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary. CODEC Stories:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 26 Responses ABB April 18, 2024 Powerful in its understatement. The frequent near rhymes, avoiding jingle-jangle, jar slightly like the afternoon’s stillness you describe, contributing to the undercurrent of emotions that parallel the casket under the dirt. Thank you for making us feel your loss. Reply Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear ABB, Thank you for taking time to read with understanding, share your thoughts, and enter into my loss. Gigi Reply Roy Eugene Peterson April 18, 2024 Precious poem, Gigi. I can feel the sense of loss that pervades the proceeding and the heartache that continues. Reply Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Roy, Thank you for your kind comment and sharing my grief. Gigi Reply fred schueler April 18, 2024 here’s the song I wrote about our daughter when she was road-killed in 1985: ELSA’S SONG I once loved a Mimp, and I loved her so well, That how much I loved her this song cannot tell. She never would nap in a regular way, She ran in small circles and then ran away. She muddled her supper with never a spoon, and she slept in my arms in the evening. She had a brown Dog that would lie down to drink, A fierce Motor-Beaver, you’d think he would sink. She dressed him on mittens and sweaters and chains, In Bishops, or in Tobermory. I once loved a Mimp, and her hair was a mess, And how much it tangled you never could guess. She filled it with Goat cheese and white paper glue, And she screamed when her Mum tried to comb it. I once loved a Mimp, but she died in the night. In one rushing instant was lost to our sight. And gone like a Sparrow released from the hand, She’ll never be back in the morning. Daddy’s at the Beamish, and Mommy’s at home, but she’s in a box in Toronto alone. She never knew how it would prove true to say, That she’d be the Chief in the museum. I once loved a Mimp, and her hair was a mess,, Sent up from Toronto by parcel express, And washed out in handsfulls, and laid out to dry When it came in the mail in the morning. When we lived together, it suited so well, That she must have a sister, a brother, to tell, To live as a family, to laugh and to sing, And to love as she taught us to love her. Reply Julian D. Woodruff April 18, 2024 Your remembrance speaks clearly, even though indirectly, of submission and powerlessness: the oppressive heat, the inescapable insects, the thump of the earth, like the drumbeat of a dirge, that seems to rob mourners of consoling quiet … We spend so much time trying to convince ourselves and others that we’re in control. Thank you for this reminder to the contrary. Reply Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Julian, You have well received the atmosphere I was trying to communicate, and the undercurrents that are unspoken. Thank you for commenting. Gigi Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Fred, Almost 40 years later the grief is still real, isn’t it? I have found poetry to be a way to express my grief and preserve my memories; I think you have as well. I am sorry for the loss of your Mimp. Gigi Reply Mary Gardner April 18, 2024 Dear Fred, Please accept my condolences on the loss of your sweet Elsa. Memory eternal. Thank you for sharing your poem. Reply Paul A. Freeman April 18, 2024 Powerful and memorable in its raw emotion and vividness. Thanks for such an affecting read, Gigi. Reply Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Paul, Thank you for commenting and receiving the message of the poem. Gigi Reply Shamik Banerjee April 18, 2024 The grief contained in this poem surpasses all bounds. The very age of your granddaughter broke my heart. I cannot imagine the pain you and her parents went through. They say time heals everything, but I think not all voids fill with time. Thank you for your courage in sharing this piece with us all. This powerful piece definitely speaks for all those parents and grandparents who have undergone a similar experience. God bless you, Gigi. Reply Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Shamik, Thank you for your thoughtful comment and for entering into grief with me. My mother-in-law, who was widowed with two small children at the age of 36, never got over her grief. She would say, “You don’t get over it, you get past it.” I, too, agree with you that not all voids fill with time. I found that writing poetry has been a helpful outlet for my grief since we lost Valerie. I do hope it speaks to others who have had a similar experience. Being able to comfort others in their loss is one fruit, albeit bitter, of experiencing loss yourself. I know that my son and daughter-in-law have a special care for others since losing their firstborn. Gigi Reply Shamik Banerjee April 20, 2024 Dear Gigi, I am happy to know that you found refuge in poetry. It is that one gift that helps one cope with the bitter phases of life. I hope your son and daughter-in-law have found some warmth in their lives. My prayers with you and your family. Mary Gardner April 18, 2024 Dear Gigi, please accept my sympathy on the repose of dear Valerie. I hope that writing this beautiful, sad poem has helped you heal. Memory eternal. Reply Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Mary, Thank you. Writing poetry has been therapeutic for me. Gigi Reply Margaret Coats April 18, 2024 Heartfelt condolences, Gigi, on the loss of your granddaughter. By the birth and death dates, I see you had much more to bear than you mention in the poem. The only clue you provide is the “blazing heat” at the burial. I know of two deaths in spring 2020, one on the very date Valerie passed on. The closure of funeral and burial was delayed until July and August, although it normally would have occurred by the end of April. Months with the bodies of loved ones in a coroner’s refrigerator, due to covid work slowdown. And if Valerie died at home, her mother and father would have been cruelly questioned to rule out child abuse in the death of their firstborn. What extremities of pain for all of you! I am glad to know that the poem can help you past it, if never over it, along with “the sound of dirt” that allowed each mourner a personal part in laying Valerie to rest. May she rest in peace. Reply Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Margaret, Thank you for your comment and perceptive reading between the lines! Valerie was born with a heart defect. She never got to go home. She had two open heart surgeries in her short three weeks with hopes of her long term survival, but the hopes were obviously not realized. Covid made that very hard situation much worse. Her parents were not allowed to both be with her in her NICU room, until her final few days because of rules. Her four grandparents were not allowed to visit, except for 30 minutes each the morning of the day she died. Opportunities for family togetherness and comforting one another were irreplaceably lost due to regulations. At the same time, there were tokens of mercy. Our pastor was able to go and baptize her in the NICU with her parents present. A very kind woman in our community allowed us to use her open air pavilion for the funeral. Our church cemetery held the burial service (the setting of this poem), all just 4 days after her death. We were very blessed. Our difficulties made us more aware of the the fact that many suffered unintended difficulties during lockdowns. But for the comfort of the Providence of God, I could succumb to bitterness over such. I also should say that my son and daughter-in-law have had a healthy son and daughter since they lost Valerie. Nothing can replace her, of course. Writing about her and her time on earth keep her memory alive in my heart. It has been a privilege to share her here today. Gigi Reply Casey Robb April 19, 2024 What an exquisite poem with its details of “bugs or bees,” the “blazing heat,” the shovel “passed from man to man,” and the sound effects of “thump by thump by thump.” I felt I was right there in the scene with all my senses amid the grief. Then, in the last stanza, the understated silence with “no good words.” Excellent poem! Quiet, hard-hitting. Thank you for sharing your terrible grief in this form. Reply Gigi Ryan April 20, 2024 Dear Casey, Thank you for sharing your experience with my poem. In once sense, writing poems helps me to heal; in another I hope it will help others in their journey of healing. I am glad to know that the sense I felt that day was accessible to you through my words. Gigi Reply Bruce Phenix April 20, 2024 Gigi, Thank you for your deeply moving and personal poem. Its powerful and economic expression reminds me of some lines in ‘En el entierro de un amigo’ from the collection ‘Soledades’ by the Spanish poet Antonio Machado, especially ‘They buried him…in the month of July, beneath the fiery sun’, ‘The thump of a coffin on earth is something perfectly serious’ and ‘On the black coffin the heavy, dusty clods broke up…’ As Julian has said above, your deep reflections are a reminder that our human lives are ultimately beyond our control and that bereavement changes them permanently. I’m so pleased, however, to hear that your son and daughter-in-law have been able to have other children, your own precious grandchildren. Reply Gigi Ryan April 20, 2024 Dear Bruce, I am unfamiliar with, “En el entierro de uno amigo;” thank you for sharing some of the lines from it. There was a time in my life that I would have found such lines (and even my lines), “too depressing.” Now I see that it can be a comfort to find in someone else’s art that you have been understood. I love your phrase, “economic expression.” I can be wordy and appreciate that poetry requires me to weigh my words and thoughts. Gigi Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant April 21, 2024 Gigi, every carefully wrought line of this heartbreaking poem has a powerful effect. The in-the-moment, matter-of-fact style made this reader feel a part of the scene… I heard the “thump” of earth as “no one [said] a thing”. Tears pricked my eyes at the words “Death has made its claim”. All of this leads to an agonizing closing line that says it all. Gigi, I am so sorry for your loss. I know this poem will reach out to many and I thank you for writing it. Reply Gigi Ryan April 22, 2024 Dear Susan, Thank you for taking time to experience my poem. Human suffering is inevitable; it is my heart to be able to encourage others with my words. You give me hope that I do. Gigi Reply David Whippman April 22, 2024 Thank you for this powerfully understated poem, and condolences on your tragic loss. Reply Gigi Ryan April 22, 2024 Dear David, Thank you for your encouraging comment and condolences. Gigi Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Captcha loading...In order to pass the CAPTCHA please enable JavaScript. Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. Δ This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
ABB April 18, 2024 Powerful in its understatement. The frequent near rhymes, avoiding jingle-jangle, jar slightly like the afternoon’s stillness you describe, contributing to the undercurrent of emotions that parallel the casket under the dirt. Thank you for making us feel your loss. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear ABB, Thank you for taking time to read with understanding, share your thoughts, and enter into my loss. Gigi Reply
Roy Eugene Peterson April 18, 2024 Precious poem, Gigi. I can feel the sense of loss that pervades the proceeding and the heartache that continues. Reply
fred schueler April 18, 2024 here’s the song I wrote about our daughter when she was road-killed in 1985: ELSA’S SONG I once loved a Mimp, and I loved her so well, That how much I loved her this song cannot tell. She never would nap in a regular way, She ran in small circles and then ran away. She muddled her supper with never a spoon, and she slept in my arms in the evening. She had a brown Dog that would lie down to drink, A fierce Motor-Beaver, you’d think he would sink. She dressed him on mittens and sweaters and chains, In Bishops, or in Tobermory. I once loved a Mimp, and her hair was a mess, And how much it tangled you never could guess. She filled it with Goat cheese and white paper glue, And she screamed when her Mum tried to comb it. I once loved a Mimp, but she died in the night. In one rushing instant was lost to our sight. And gone like a Sparrow released from the hand, She’ll never be back in the morning. Daddy’s at the Beamish, and Mommy’s at home, but she’s in a box in Toronto alone. She never knew how it would prove true to say, That she’d be the Chief in the museum. I once loved a Mimp, and her hair was a mess,, Sent up from Toronto by parcel express, And washed out in handsfulls, and laid out to dry When it came in the mail in the morning. When we lived together, it suited so well, That she must have a sister, a brother, to tell, To live as a family, to laugh and to sing, And to love as she taught us to love her. Reply
Julian D. Woodruff April 18, 2024 Your remembrance speaks clearly, even though indirectly, of submission and powerlessness: the oppressive heat, the inescapable insects, the thump of the earth, like the drumbeat of a dirge, that seems to rob mourners of consoling quiet … We spend so much time trying to convince ourselves and others that we’re in control. Thank you for this reminder to the contrary. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Julian, You have well received the atmosphere I was trying to communicate, and the undercurrents that are unspoken. Thank you for commenting. Gigi
Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Fred, Almost 40 years later the grief is still real, isn’t it? I have found poetry to be a way to express my grief and preserve my memories; I think you have as well. I am sorry for the loss of your Mimp. Gigi Reply
Mary Gardner April 18, 2024 Dear Fred, Please accept my condolences on the loss of your sweet Elsa. Memory eternal. Thank you for sharing your poem. Reply
Paul A. Freeman April 18, 2024 Powerful and memorable in its raw emotion and vividness. Thanks for such an affecting read, Gigi. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Paul, Thank you for commenting and receiving the message of the poem. Gigi Reply
Shamik Banerjee April 18, 2024 The grief contained in this poem surpasses all bounds. The very age of your granddaughter broke my heart. I cannot imagine the pain you and her parents went through. They say time heals everything, but I think not all voids fill with time. Thank you for your courage in sharing this piece with us all. This powerful piece definitely speaks for all those parents and grandparents who have undergone a similar experience. God bless you, Gigi. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Shamik, Thank you for your thoughtful comment and for entering into grief with me. My mother-in-law, who was widowed with two small children at the age of 36, never got over her grief. She would say, “You don’t get over it, you get past it.” I, too, agree with you that not all voids fill with time. I found that writing poetry has been a helpful outlet for my grief since we lost Valerie. I do hope it speaks to others who have had a similar experience. Being able to comfort others in their loss is one fruit, albeit bitter, of experiencing loss yourself. I know that my son and daughter-in-law have a special care for others since losing their firstborn. Gigi Reply
Shamik Banerjee April 20, 2024 Dear Gigi, I am happy to know that you found refuge in poetry. It is that one gift that helps one cope with the bitter phases of life. I hope your son and daughter-in-law have found some warmth in their lives. My prayers with you and your family.
Mary Gardner April 18, 2024 Dear Gigi, please accept my sympathy on the repose of dear Valerie. I hope that writing this beautiful, sad poem has helped you heal. Memory eternal. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Mary, Thank you. Writing poetry has been therapeutic for me. Gigi Reply
Margaret Coats April 18, 2024 Heartfelt condolences, Gigi, on the loss of your granddaughter. By the birth and death dates, I see you had much more to bear than you mention in the poem. The only clue you provide is the “blazing heat” at the burial. I know of two deaths in spring 2020, one on the very date Valerie passed on. The closure of funeral and burial was delayed until July and August, although it normally would have occurred by the end of April. Months with the bodies of loved ones in a coroner’s refrigerator, due to covid work slowdown. And if Valerie died at home, her mother and father would have been cruelly questioned to rule out child abuse in the death of their firstborn. What extremities of pain for all of you! I am glad to know that the poem can help you past it, if never over it, along with “the sound of dirt” that allowed each mourner a personal part in laying Valerie to rest. May she rest in peace. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 18, 2024 Dear Margaret, Thank you for your comment and perceptive reading between the lines! Valerie was born with a heart defect. She never got to go home. She had two open heart surgeries in her short three weeks with hopes of her long term survival, but the hopes were obviously not realized. Covid made that very hard situation much worse. Her parents were not allowed to both be with her in her NICU room, until her final few days because of rules. Her four grandparents were not allowed to visit, except for 30 minutes each the morning of the day she died. Opportunities for family togetherness and comforting one another were irreplaceably lost due to regulations. At the same time, there were tokens of mercy. Our pastor was able to go and baptize her in the NICU with her parents present. A very kind woman in our community allowed us to use her open air pavilion for the funeral. Our church cemetery held the burial service (the setting of this poem), all just 4 days after her death. We were very blessed. Our difficulties made us more aware of the the fact that many suffered unintended difficulties during lockdowns. But for the comfort of the Providence of God, I could succumb to bitterness over such. I also should say that my son and daughter-in-law have had a healthy son and daughter since they lost Valerie. Nothing can replace her, of course. Writing about her and her time on earth keep her memory alive in my heart. It has been a privilege to share her here today. Gigi Reply
Casey Robb April 19, 2024 What an exquisite poem with its details of “bugs or bees,” the “blazing heat,” the shovel “passed from man to man,” and the sound effects of “thump by thump by thump.” I felt I was right there in the scene with all my senses amid the grief. Then, in the last stanza, the understated silence with “no good words.” Excellent poem! Quiet, hard-hitting. Thank you for sharing your terrible grief in this form. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 20, 2024 Dear Casey, Thank you for sharing your experience with my poem. In once sense, writing poems helps me to heal; in another I hope it will help others in their journey of healing. I am glad to know that the sense I felt that day was accessible to you through my words. Gigi Reply
Bruce Phenix April 20, 2024 Gigi, Thank you for your deeply moving and personal poem. Its powerful and economic expression reminds me of some lines in ‘En el entierro de un amigo’ from the collection ‘Soledades’ by the Spanish poet Antonio Machado, especially ‘They buried him…in the month of July, beneath the fiery sun’, ‘The thump of a coffin on earth is something perfectly serious’ and ‘On the black coffin the heavy, dusty clods broke up…’ As Julian has said above, your deep reflections are a reminder that our human lives are ultimately beyond our control and that bereavement changes them permanently. I’m so pleased, however, to hear that your son and daughter-in-law have been able to have other children, your own precious grandchildren. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 20, 2024 Dear Bruce, I am unfamiliar with, “En el entierro de uno amigo;” thank you for sharing some of the lines from it. There was a time in my life that I would have found such lines (and even my lines), “too depressing.” Now I see that it can be a comfort to find in someone else’s art that you have been understood. I love your phrase, “economic expression.” I can be wordy and appreciate that poetry requires me to weigh my words and thoughts. Gigi Reply
Susan Jarvis Bryant April 21, 2024 Gigi, every carefully wrought line of this heartbreaking poem has a powerful effect. The in-the-moment, matter-of-fact style made this reader feel a part of the scene… I heard the “thump” of earth as “no one [said] a thing”. Tears pricked my eyes at the words “Death has made its claim”. All of this leads to an agonizing closing line that says it all. Gigi, I am so sorry for your loss. I know this poem will reach out to many and I thank you for writing it. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 22, 2024 Dear Susan, Thank you for taking time to experience my poem. Human suffering is inevitable; it is my heart to be able to encourage others with my words. You give me hope that I do. Gigi Reply
David Whippman April 22, 2024 Thank you for this powerfully understated poem, and condolences on your tragic loss. Reply
Gigi Ryan April 22, 2024 Dear David, Thank you for your encouraging comment and condolences. Gigi Reply
