Last night I got a phone call...Veronica's only son, only 22 was killed in a car accident...my heart sank...but my thoughts went to her...
She would-
journey down a path of disbelief
hoping that the fear would fall away
as she saw her child walking towards her
as always, had done years before
walk into a room, only shadows for warmth
see her child laying there...like an angel
want to hug them, hold them,
as they had before, and hugs returned
they are slightly warm, possibly cold
dead weight hangs in your arms
she will pull away and cry out
"my baby, my baby, is gone"
days, hours, months, a year go by
the pain lessens, worsens... dissipates
the journey has only begun...
Memories flood the mind, words occupy
others have shared come back in pieces
sad stories on the news become water over fingers
until the heart repairs... for now...
A Mother’s Heart Speaks Volumes
Early morning hours bring
my daughter; again
to my bedside
complaining of sleeplessness
Her heart
once again
S H O U T I N G discomfort
Hours of her
in my bed, crying
tossing in, tossing out the racing moments
I am naked, helpless
her fragile body
begging me to make it stop
I offer prayer; soft arms
a tangible mom against the shadow
Fourteen this woman child
more beautiful than could hope to be
She-my youth incarnate-
my blissful fantasies
how can her diseased heat
escape its chamber,
beating on its walls
S H O U T I N G…
Tears collapse onto her shoulders
before sleep can steal a soft reprieve
Moments, months, hope, now fear…
I do not see her older
I will not share her first kiss
I will never hold my grandchildren
I will only share what she has told me-in company with that secret smile
Her laugh now stilled
is heard by all that knew her
Her pain opened my eyes
set flight to my selfish anxiety
Early morning hours deliver
Ane’s memory to my bedside
Now my weary heart escapes its chamber,
beating on its walls
S H O U T I N G …for all that it misses
-E, 2002
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5 comments:
im so sorry.
So apologies necessary...we all have our paths that make us who we are...I would do it all over again...I had fourteen wonderful years and I dream about her all the time, like she was here...
But thanks, and just remember when someone you know has this happen...be there if just to play cards or a hug...
Oh E....there is a huge lump in my throat I am trying to surpress...
I lost my son and it is all still too raw for me to handle. I can't bring myself to read your poem it would be like sticking a hot poker into my openly wounded heart. I'm so sorry for your loss. I hope someday I can get to the point that I can talk about him without breaking down.
most of all, i am THERE for my families. you shall meet again someday
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