It's that month, that time of year
the invisible internal clock
keeps track of minutes and hours
leading up to the
countdown.
After all these years it still seeps and spills
profound and utter grief
for all that we had and lost'
leading up to the
countdown.
It's that month, that time of year
internal memory recounts
precisely what procedure, medication
you endured leading up to the
countdown.
It's that month, that time of year
when I want to steal
just a moment to let down -
feel the impact, shock and awe,
head on.
It's that month, that time of year
a dozen years have passed
I speak your name,
I sing your song and still
love lives on.
And still, the countdown is on ...
This is really beautiful and touching. I'm not really sure who it's about, but it's so great that regardless of the time love still remains. There a strength that resounds through this particular writing.
ReplyDeleteIt's about my sweet little mom who passed away in early Dec 1997. She was very ill in the last month of her life ... and I still feel badly about the pain she suffered. I still miss her every single day, but I also feel her love ... still.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your lovely comment E.
Oh Lyn I'm so sorry...
ReplyDeleteThis poem is beautiful, though. I agree with E.
Hi Lyn, so sad to read the poem about your mom.. i just can't even imagine how it must feel. I love your poem, though. take care and have a warm hug from Africa x
ReplyDelete