Author: southseaeyes
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Grief I: Sutured With Longings Of You
“The spaces you’ve left are heavy with your memories.I lie here bereft, sutured with longings of you.I miss you” Poem accompaniment of “Grief I: Sutured With Longings Of You”, mixed media printmaking -Nusye McComish Grief, as I am learning to live through, is not merely an emotional state – it is akin to a wound…
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Academic Grief Study: Navigating Widowhood Through Research
Monday Morning I woke today rememberinghow his face looked when he sleeps—when we were just starting to be together.In our twenties.We were mere babies. I was a first-year student.He just began his work,studying CIMA.He looked peaceful in sleep. There is this space,cotton-wool safeI know I want to enter itto simply stay with thememories, I know…
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Enduring: in the Aftermath of Sudden Loss
The piece, titled “Enduring: in the Aftermath of Sudden Loss – Bin Day,” is a lyrical meditation on grief written by nusye mccomish (southseaeyes) in August 2025. Using the mundane act of taking out the bins as a metaphor, the author explores how loss shatters language, routine, and self‑perception. The deliberate use of lowercase “i” symbolizes a…
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The Glinting Harrow
saturnian shroud of mine darkmother dark light deluge the torn terraincalls for ritualcigarettesmorning coffeethis is the new breakfasti live here nowmy new residential mindscape this texture of grief is the obsidian peaksmarkingthe depths of abyss of loss meteoriote slammed intowide open flatlandgently sloping towardpebbled seafrontold pier jutting outarchitectural archessmooth paths wreaking havocwreaking absolute havocobliteratedburnttornthe earth’s…
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Of the Aftermath
This is the Aftermath, This space is a space for my writing of grief. For me. These are my words used to navigate the landscape, mindscape of a grief-stricken terrain.
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The Physics of Grief
The grief sits in my skull like eels thrashing in warm oil, slick, furious, impossible to grasp. Some nights I lie awake listening to the house breathe without him, every creak a muffled reminder of his footsteps. Some mornings I wake forgetting the world has split in two— Then remembering hits like a door slamming shut…
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SouthSeaEyes is quiet for now
Last fortnight, my husband passed away. Unexpectedly. Suddenly. The warm light that is the core of my world, my anchor, the sacred home to my heart. His absence has reshaped every corner of my world, quietly and completely. Grief is not linear. It is a shard, a shrapnel. It is keening. It floats when idle…
