My World is Under Construction

Autumn cold sets in with a sharp-scented dread.
The sky is lifeless-black.
I hang a sign while I mourn:
Excuse this mess.
My world is under construction.

You were so full of life, it’s hard to believe
you’re gone and not coming back.
Knife-edged memories
are cutting bone-deep.
Not sure what I’m supposed to do next.

You’ve found peace and joy in a place far away,
where I can’t kiss or hug you once more.
I’m thankful you’ve let go,
you’ve found your new home,
but my world is a twisted mess.

A new path is awaiting me, sure, I know,
but I shun it like a dangerous stranger.
I’m not ready to move on —
so give me your strength and your love,
and give me time to rebuild my damn world.

Know this, my sweet mom, I’m really not that strong
and I can’t heal as fast as you left.
But someday, my dear mom,
I’ll find courage to go on,
and my world will slowly un-mess.


Cheers, Mom. 1929 – 2015


3 thoughts on “My World is Under Construction

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