(another entry in my diary - made a year after my mother's death. she, by the way, was the most powerful influence on me.)
A year since she left.
A year since the detonation
In the chest—or brain?
The steadying hand. Stunned Disbelief.
Deaf to our grief
Dead to our grief
Where are you?
WHERE are you?
Then the vacuum.
The struggle for air in nothingness
Clawing to grasp the reality of absence.
The quake was better.
Can vacuum be so heavy? Oppressive?
Crushing the nerve from feeling the pain?
When was this sunya infused with grief?
When did it happen?
Brine and migraine
Sobs toppling poise?
Stealthily, absence grew into day to day existence
But - - - -WHERE are you?
Something in me sometimes screams
Can you just cease to be? What strange heaven bewitches you
That you choose not to reach out
And balm my pain
Which once you could not bear?
You too, heartless, ma?
Heart, I guess, belongs to the flesh and bone.Alas!