melissaahowells
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I write this
for those who are gone well before their time the happy 92 year-old husband who was planning a surprise for their 60th anniversary the forty-five year old father who spent the holiday with his family and then died the next week and for the child who wanted to be an astronaut and a gymnast and a mommy I write this for those whose grief drenches the earth yet still hope for a field of daisies to dance in I write this for those shut in and needing fresh air and the lungs to breath it I write this for my memories sweet ghosts of not yet one year ago you're my comfort, my confidantes who now remind me the days of future are not all passed I write this for the faces the spaces I long to hold and touch but must suffice with lucid dreams and the night-tears of remembering It seems at times I am all wet and this has been the longest winter of my mind shut in yet wide awake dreaming the emotions of those who en masse are dying of those who are weeping and how they cannot be replaced the old who've earned their rest, respect and reprieve and the young who had fewer miles between them and a clock that was broken when it still should chime time and sunrises and sunsets and the soft moments of the day will never erase them away-away we will be walking where they walked for a long long time after and how we'll marvel over who they were how they lived their simplest deeds impermanence is now branded indelible within the shrines of our hearts I see them here still long after their shadows ceased to create the necessary gathering of electrical impulses etched upon my brain their absence is the wane and the wail and not in the lack of input but contained within the great tsunami of our growing grief. LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 2:05AM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME MARCH 2, 2021 TIME/DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS POET MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE-MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD... Vote for this poem |
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