21 October 2018

my mother died this year at eighty-eight


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my mother died this year at eighty-eight
this was not unexpected she was old
year after year had laid on her their freight

none of us were certain our words had no weight
all of our feelings open uncontrolled
my mother died this year at eighty-eight

her life was a true cycle and her fate
a journey ended where justly foretold
year after year had laid on her their freight

my only choice here is to celebrate
the tales of who she was and those she told
my mother died this year at eighty-eight

the wonder is we rise to the estate
of adult human but cannot say bold
year after year  had laid on her their freight

the tears well up the flow of them is great
but living folk must bear up under cold
my mother died this year at eighty-eight
year after year had laid on her their freight

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