There is no sound
more deafening
than the silence of your name
never being spoken.
There is no space heavier,
more suffocating — full, and yet,
so hollow, and
empty,
than your absence
in this world.
My nightmares awake are long.
My sleeping dreams of you
are brief.
Nothing gives me less purpose,
less drive to get out of bed,
than knowing you might be
behind my eyes.
I only have to go there, and
hope that I run into you.
Imagine an ocean,
never combed by the moon.
Imagine a wind
that never breaths.
Imagine birds,
grounded and mute.
Imagine veiny trees,
desperately reaching, and naked,
all year long —
forever.
Imagine that the black behind your eyes
is more beautiful
than a night's starry skies.
Written in 2018
YOU ARE READING
A votive that has un-mothered
PoetryA collection of grief poems from losing my mother to cancer. I may or may not keep this up here. I doubt there's any audience for this kind of thing on this site. Trigger warning. Lots of raw imagery in these poems. You can follow Rachel's work on...
