Ode to a Grieving Mother

cloudsShe sees only dark.
Yet she sees light.
Consumed for days
With visitors, loving family, fellow grievers.
Food offerings appear
For a family unable to function.
Words of kindness and
Unintended hurting words.
I know how it goes.
It has been one week.
The shuffled deck begins to settle
Into an uneasy stack.
Only the family in the house now.
There is one less place to set at the table.
The house is quieter than normal.
A doll remains tucked into its bed.
Blueberries for Sal lies waiting
On the lamp table.
It is probably overdue.
Returning to the library
An impossibility.
Traffic sounds hum and squeal.
A silent scream rends her heart.
Sometimes breathing is a chore.
A robin flutters in the garden
Carrying a worm.
She glances at the sky
And sees bright windows.

 

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About 9awalsh

A genealogist and writer who has uncovered legacy stories which must be told. I also write a blog, Deciphering Life, trying to figure out why life becomes so tangled -- www.9awalsh.wordpress.com
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