Musings by The Poet Loriet

Questions Without Answers

"Deathly" ill...
she won't make it thru the night.

Those words sneak up on you
and slap you in the face.
You can pretend to be strong
and deny the truth
until that dark moment of
surprise attack, numbness.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lie.
Then you sink into a chair
and the tears come.
You can't even feel them
running down your face.
It's as if you're glued down
and the flood of memories
flash before you
like a bad movie
you can't escape.

Very busy, you pack and clean,
then exhausted, try to sleep,
only finding that you can't--
preparing for the nightmare ahead,
having to face saying goodbye...

How do you do that?
And what do you say
to your own father
when his mom dies
on Mother's Day weekend?

How awful is that?!

There aren't easy answers
to these kinds of questions.
I just need to have
beer or chocolate...
maybe both,
do some cross-stitch,
and wait by the phone
for the loud ring
that's gonna scare the
hell out of me...

that fateful call
telling me
Grandma's
gone.


Lori Beal


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Questions Without Answers

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