My mothers fears and tears, I can't erase.
She looks at me for ease and recognition.
The family here, looks on, near but not so near.
My mothers eyes scream sorrow all alone.
Her brother here screams just as true, invisible, strong, but a single tear leaves his eyes just the same, his shame.
My mother sits in island isles coping on her own.
The families pass, the friends are vast, respect is paid past due.
Closer cousins sit in streams of all the love they hear.
My mother speaks to call to close a simple sorry eve.
A brother, uncle, son all get a time to say and recall times today.
I aswell though not well get to say my piece.
My mother leaves.
So do I.
I hope he rests in peace.
YOU ARE READING
Lackluster writing...bad writer.
PoetryConfessional poems. These are how I feel about myself and the things around me. These poems mean a lot to me. I may not be a good writer but I wanted at least anonymously to share them.
