My Mother And A Husband Dying Young Poem by jennifer killian

There are stories that only you know
And you keep them hidden deep inside your injured heart;
coals that burn you, red hot, when you touch them
You wish you could rid yourself of them
But they are inside you;
You can’t control this
There is nothing you can do
I'm so sorry, so very sorry

I can’t imagine, even though I try,
The unbearable, awful pain you must have
To have your husband die on you so young, so awfully young,
so terribly young
I would listen; I want to listen; I would like to know about him;
I wish I knew the stories, too
But you would never tell, can’t tell
So, I can only love you
And speak with you about the price of groceries,
the traffic,
your aches and pains,
and whatever else it takes to get you through another day