I spent agonizing hours yesterday trying to compose this month’s poem. To no avail. I left it and came back to it a few hours later, when this poem just flowed. Same topic; just couldn’t write it at that particular time, I guess.
(37 months)
“My Support”
You supported me
When I couldn’t stand,
You were there…
Waiting…
Unknown to me
When I fell
On the third anniversary
Of your death,
When I crawled like a baby—
Or an old woman
Without wits—
Over the icy snow
To reach your headstone,
Where I could haul myself up,
Leaning with my good arm
On your stone.
We laughed,
Elizabeth and I,
For it was funny—
Funnily sad—
She had fallen seconds before I had,
Bruising her bum,
And me: breaking my wrist,
My first broken bone—
An old woman
Even older a month later—
A mother
Who just wanted to visit
Remains of her son—
Remnants from a dreadful day
Three years ago—
But unable to accomplish a simple feat
Without mishap.
I swear I heard you laughing
And your words, “Oh, Mom!”
And then, “I gotta go.”
If you enjoyed this poem and would like to read more, check out the book I published on the third anniversary of Matthew’s death. MY HEART IS BROKEN