Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Love will never grow

I don’t know what the priest had been saying about his life.
At lunch we all grieved.
Pasts, memories on memories,
but oh the “you have our sympathies”.
My brain erupting with a father
lying, drunk at my graduation,
inviting his whore into our house,
smiling, concealing,
but I saw the evil shadow
that fell across
his stubbled face.

Mother was a mass of Kleenex and sobs,
my sisters
weeping at her side.
But not I. Am I not human?
Why couldn’t I recall the happy times?
The softball games,
the brand new pink bike
with the yellow banana seat
and basket on handlebars…
riding down the gravel drive
with pigtails flying,
as you promised not to let me fall.

And so I sat…waiting…
it was not too late
for tears to fall
like a cleansing counselor.

Mother begins to glide between full tables
thanking people who came to the church.
Then, the family I have left,
trods out to a mound of cold earth,
where I set my flower down
and I know
it will never grow.

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