Moving On Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

She laughed at me!  
It must have punched her heart
when I, at four, first screamed,  
'I HATE you, mom! '
I'd thought that I'd get hit,  
but she stayed calm.
She knew 
our private journey had to part.
At fourteen all I did
was stomp and groan.
At dad's polite suggestions
how I frowned.
I loved and needed them
yet still felt bound.
Up swelled that urge
to fend off on my own.
Once we were one
But now you're gone
And hoarding your things
will not bring you back.
My grief masks
my resentment.
Though I lack the courage
and the will
I must move on.
I hope you're smiling
as I chew my lip
and let your treasures slip
out of my grip.