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Woven

Modern Plain English Non-religious Gentle Comforting

Becky Hemsley

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Woven

Becky Hemsley

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

serany.app

Where to read it

Read it free on Becky's own site

What Serany thinks about this poem

Modern Plain English Non-religious Gentle Comforting

Meaning

It finds the person in the ordinary stitching of a day: the way the tea gets made, a phrase that keeps being said, a joke that still lands. Nothing is gone, it says, it is just part of the cloth now.

Who's it for

Someone whose habits are full of the person who died. It suits a service that wants warmth rather than weeping.

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 gentle poems

23 in all

See all 23 →

Afterwards

This poem is for someone who noticed things other people walked straight past. Right for a gardener, a birdwatcher, or anyone who was kind to animals.

OutdoorsyGentle

1917

2 min

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, "He was a man who used to notice such things"? If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink, The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, "To him this must have been a familiar sight." If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn, One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm, But he could do little for them; and now he is gone"? If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door, Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees, Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more, "He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"? And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom, And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings, Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom, "He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"?

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Because I could not stop for Death

This poem is for someone unhurried, who took things as they came and was never frightened of what was ahead.

A classicGentle

1890

50 sec

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 't is centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.

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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.

More about this poem →

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

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.

Woven

Woven

Where to read it

What Serany thinks about this poem

Meaning

Who's it for

Becky Hemsley

More gentle poems

Afterwards

Because I could not stop for Death

Crossing the Bar

Death Is Nothing At All

Death stands above me

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Epitaph on an Infant

Flowers

Friendship

Grief poem

I'll See You Tomorrow

July

More comforting poems

Afterparty

Again

All At Once

Crossing the Bar

Death Is Nothing At All

Death stands above me

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Epitaph on an Infant

Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun

Firsts

Flowers

Holding On

More modern poems

Afterlife

Afterparty

Again

All At Once

Bus Shelter

chasing ceremony/convincing myself

Chasing Tomorrow

Dirge Without Music

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Firsts

Flowers

Friendship

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