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Just the Way

Modern Plain English Non-religious For a mother Comforting

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Just the Way

Becky Hemsley

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Where to read it

Read it free on Becky's own site

What Serany thinks about this poem

Modern Plain English Non-religious For a mother Comforting

Meaning

A mother who died is found in her daughter's own face and voice: the nose that crinkles, the laugh, the way she treasures people. It closes by asking her to love herself the way her mother did.

Who's it for

A daughter burying her mother, and especially a service falling anywhere near Mother's Day, which is where it opens.

Becky Hemsley

British

beckyhemsley.com

@talkingtothewild

@beckyhemsleypoetry

Becky Hemsley taught in primary schools before writing full time, and lives in Leicestershire. Six collections since 2021, two of them written entirely for grief. She gives around fifty of her poems away free on her own site.

More about Becky Hemsley →

More comforting poems

28 in all

Afterparty

This poem is for a family being swallowed by the ugly end of grief. It tells them what the anger is made of without asking them to feel better yet.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Again

This poem is for anyone in the first terrible weeks who has caught themselves wishing they had never met. It is the answer to that thought.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

All At Once

This poem is for a family who feel they are grieving wrongly, especially anyone who caught themselves laughing. It tells them nothing has gone wrong.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Crossing the Bar

This poem is for someone who had a long life and was ready. Especially right for anyone who went to sea, or just loved being near it.

ReligiousTraditional

1889

45 sec

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.

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Death Is Nothing At All

This poem is for almost any funeral, and it is the reading most families have already heard. Right for someone whose house was full of easy talk and jokes.

ComfortingGentle

1919

2 min

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

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Death stands above me

This poem is for a family who do not believe in anything particular and would rather not pretend they do. Right for someone who was not afraid at the end.

StoicNon-religious

1853

15 sec

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Epitaph on an Infant

This poem is for a baby, or a child who died very small. It is right where a family believe their child is somewhere safe and being looked after now.

For a babyFor a child

1794

10 sec

Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun

This poem is for a person who worked hard all their life and had had enough by the end. It also fits someone who never cared much who was important and who wasn't.

A classicTraditional

1623

50 sec

Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages: Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning flash Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.

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Firsts

This poem is for a family looking down the barrel of the first year. It does not tell them it gets better, only that it stops happening for the first time.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Flowers

This poem is for a family dreading the first birthday and the first anniversary. It hands back the obligation before anybody has to feel guilty about it.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Holding On

This poem is for anyone who thinks they should be further along by now. It describes what the next few years actually feel like, without promising they end.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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More poems for a mother

7 in all

Lighthouses

This poem is for a grandmother, read by the daughter who is now raising children of her own without her.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Mother o' Mine

This poem is for a mother whose love never had any conditions on it. The kind that would have followed her children anywhere, and they always knew it.

For a motherComforting

1891

40 sec

If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

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Remember

This poem is for a long marriage, or a parent you were really close to. It's the person who died giving everyone permission to be happy again.

GentleComforting

1862

50 sec

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

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Rock Me to Sleep

This poem is for a mother whose children still feel like children when they think of her. Someone whose particular comfort nobody else was ever able to copy.

For a motherTear jerker

1859

3 min

Backward, turn backward, O Time in your flight, Make me a child again just for tonight; Mother, come back from the echoless shore, Take me again to your heart as of yore; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years, I am so weary of toil and of tears— Toil without recompense, tears all in vain— Take them, and give me my childhood again! I have grown weary of dust and decay— Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away; Weary of sowing for others to reap; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you! Many a summer the grass has grown green, Blossomed, and faded our faces between! Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain Long I tonight for your presence again. Come from the silence so long and so deep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Over my heart in the days that are flown No love like mother love ever has shone; No other worship abides and endures— Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours; None like a mother can charm away pain From the sick soul and world weary brain. Slumber’s soft calms o’er the heavy lids creep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold, Fall on your shoulders again as of old; Let it drop over my forehead tonight, Shading my faint eyes away from the light; For with its sunny edged shadows once more Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore; Lovingly, softly its bright billows sweep; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Mother, dear mother, the years have been long Since I last hushed to your lullaby song; Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem Womanhood’s years have been only a dream. Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, With your light lashes just sweeping my face, Never hereafter to wake or to weep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep.

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She Is Gone

This poem is for a mother or a grandmother, and a family trying to turn back towards living. Right for someone who'd have wanted everyone to get on with it.

UpliftingComforting

1981

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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What I Learned

This poem is for a mother who raised someone to be sure of themselves. The second half reaches past the family to anyone else in the room who needs it.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

More modern poems

41 in all

Afterlife

This poem is for a child's funeral, or a family who want somewhere hopeful to put the question without naming a religion. It is playful on purpose.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Afterparty

This poem is for a family being swallowed by the ugly end of grief. It tells them what the anger is made of without asking them to feel better yet.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Again

This poem is for anyone in the first terrible weeks who has caught themselves wishing they had never met. It is the answer to that thought.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

All At Once

This poem is for a family who feel they are grieving wrongly, especially anyone who caught themselves laughing. It tells them nothing has gone wrong.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Bus Shelter

This poem is for someone who thought the fuss about dying was a bit much. Right for a commuter, a queuer, anyone who spent their life waiting patiently for things.

2015

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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chasing ceremony/convincing myself

This poem is for somebody who loved them and cannot be in the room. Right where a brother is abroad, a sister is too ill to travel, or the person who knew them longest is the one who has to watch on a screen.

ModernPlain English

2021

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Chasing Tomorrow

This poem is for a family who keep saying they wish they had had more time. It turns that into a resolution instead of a regret.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Dirge Without Music

This poem is for a family who are angry about it and would rather not pretend otherwise. Right for a death that makes no sense to anyone who knew them.

UnusualNon-religious

1928

1 min

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost. The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,— They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses of the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Firsts

This poem is for a family looking down the barrel of the first year. It does not tell them it gets better, only that it stops happening for the first time.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Flowers

This poem is for a family dreading the first birthday and the first anniversary. It hands back the obligation before anybody has to feel guilty about it.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Friendship

This poem is for a friend, read by a friend. It suits the person who turned up without being asked, over and over, for years.

ModernPlain English

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

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