| |
My mother's grave
was naked in March...
buried in December
No grass on her grave...
I waited...
loving to go to my
grandma's grave to talk,
not yet ready for mom...
but it was time.
Sleeting painful rain
like tiny razor blades
upon the face...
the grave a depressing
depression of dirt
sunken and sickly
inches below
the surrounding grass,
like some obscene ditch
dug down in the woods
by who knows who
for who knows what.
'Mom, I'm so sorry.
I wish I could have died
instead of you.'
Then the crush of the most
agonizingly painful misery
sucking the breath from my body
and buckling my knees
until I fell upon the ground
and cried...'Jesus Christ...
You don't belong down there...
It's so lonely...
You belong with Dad.
You belong with your grandkids...
You belong with us.
It's too lonely...
There's no grass to keep you warm...
I'll get you out Mom.
I'll get you out.'
I pawed at the frozen soil
and clawed at the sides,
trying to dig down
maybe to free my mother
maybe to join her.
Frustration...
then a crying jag
until I stood up solid
and yelled at God...
'How could you do this to her?
Me I could understand,
but she never
hurt anyone ever in her life...
she loved you, worshiped you
adored you...
Is this how you repay her?
You kill her...
What kind of a god can do that?
Sh-t on you...sh-t on you and your bullsh-t.
You want to kill someone,
then kill me...but I'll fight you...
c'mon on down and I'll kick your
god-damn balls right up between your ears...
you're so tough and almighty,
you're great at killling kids and old women,
but get your ass on down here and
give me a try...I may lose and go to hell
but I'll go to eternity
with a fu-ck-ing smile on my face
because at least
I tried to knock you on your ass...
at least I tried to fu-ck you up
for killing my mom...
She never did nothing to you...
she never hurt anyone...
she loved you...
she was...so good...
I miss her so much.'
How can you kill someone
who loves and trust you?
How can you justify
the loss of someone
so beautiful...
what reasoning can you use?
There is
no answer...
and I was just standing
in the freezing rain
on my mother's grave
talking to myself.
Coach Roth
|
|
User Rating: |
|
10.0
/10
(3 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend