Poems in a notebook … ‘I’ll dance on their graves’

After out son Doron’s tragic death, my late husband and I found a well-worn, notebook on his bedside table. It was filled with poems that he’d scribbled at odd times; thoughts he’d put down on paper. Painstakingly we deciphered them but were unable to read the contents immediately. It was far too upsetting. We put it in our study for perusal later; much, much later. One evening, we sat together on the same couch where Doron had spent so many hours, doing little but stare out of the large window at our garden and started reading. Our hearts broke once again. How many times can one’s heart break?


I never thought

I’d be as dependent as

an innocent lamb is

on its mother’s milk.

I am dependent on the charity of

good people and bad people

but to date, I haven’t met

anyone who can help me.

Certainly not my parents.

I’ll dance on their graves.


Summer has gone

There’s no sun, no sea

No tanning on white sand.

I’m waiting for the leaves to fall.

Winter, I await  you.

I wait to hail the start of the cold.

I close my windows and

won’t let THEM in.


Life is difficult sometimes

but we have to find small flashes of light

to lessen the depth of the gloomy darkness

that gets more profound

with the ticking of my clock.

It gives me a dimension of time.

Those points of light are vague during the day,

barely visible,

so I ask; ‘Is it worth living for two or three minutes a day?’


My friends are having fun;

one abroad, one recently returned

all living full lives.

Only I am incarcerated in a crazy cage

without a past, without a future.


‘We’ve tried to help you

my doctors claim.’

But, they set a trap for me.

I fell into a bottomless pit

that they dug for me.


THEY enter stealhily                                   robber thief 2

in the dead of night.

The storm inside of me

turns to fear.

What do THEY want from a pauper?

Peace, peace, peace.

I pray for peace of mind.





9 thoughts on “Poems in a notebook … ‘I’ll dance on their graves’

  1. Sara Jacobovici

    Jill, as always, I want to say thank you for your tireless work in shining the light on a very dark place. Your on going tribute to your son allows those who are in the struggle to open there eyes and look for a way out. Wishing you lots of strength.

    1. Jill Post author

      Dear Sara,
      Thank you for taking the trouble to reply. I only hope that what you say is true and that others will
      feel that they are not alone, and that they have a place where they can turn. I received a call on my
      mobile from Iraq the other night. Someone wanted help with his ill son and because I have experienced
      something similar, I was able to tell him what I did. He said it helped.

      1. Jill Post author

        Coming from both you and your husband, that is overpowering praise. Thank you both so much. There are
        times when I wonder whether the right people are reading my blog and absorbing the content.

  2. Marie Abanga


    I can’t bring myself to click like on this one… I don’t know how many times one’s heart can be broken… To whom, what or why do we turn to?
    loads of love, Marie

      1. Marie Abanga

        Gran, simply put, I think that person is the one your neighbour should have told has an ID TEN T! Hope you remember this and know that it isn’t only those diagnosed with a mental illness who are actually ill!!!

  3. Author Annie Mitchell

    this is how I began my journey of Grief after I lost my son now I am a writer and have completed three poetry books one audio and one full novel all from inspiration from my son who gave me this gift to help others.


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