quick drive
no more than three minutes
quick walk
down to her mother's grave
she goes everyday after school
everyday? everyday.
sometime its a short visit
pluck out a few weeds
a "love you mom"
and home
other times
its a lingering lawn chair sit
a one way graveside monologue
a wave of guilt
when the seeping cold,
mosquitoes, or a steady drizzle
sends her away
my brother is dead
he's resting under a stone lamb
west of town
I've never gone
maybe it is time
I am sad for that young girl who has lost he mother too young, as so many children do.........yes, say hi to your brother for me, when you visit.
ReplyDeleteThat lonely heartfelt, journey to those who once were, and now are lost. A mother in her grave, a brother in his resting place--a child's honour, a sibling's lament. This poem is a cry to us all--don't hold back. Man, don't hold back from those whom you love.
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