Thursday, September 20, 2012

My Mother's House Is Empty


A small plaque tells us he is gone,
that he was cherished.
I remember placing the box of ashes inside, on a day
just like this, with the wind blowing across the valley.
It was my mother standing beside me then,
thin in her grief,
now it is my niece and nephew.
We've spent days packing up the house
because she is gone into a nursing home
and there is nothing more for us to do in this town
but to say goodbye and carry away the memories.
I won't return
till I bring back her remains.

They drive away,
but I go back to stand in every room
and say a prayer of thanks for the holding they have done.
Finished, emptied, I walk out into the sun.
Now, I can travel home.

In the photograph I found she's looking straight at the camera,
but she is already gone.


18 September 2012

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