A Daughter’s Lament
A poem for the bereft…
When I found you in bed, you had just died.
I wept; my grieving went mostly unsaid;
you clearly were gone — I was horrified!
As you lay still in bed, utterly dead,
the huge shock I felt could not be denied,
as tears gave way to muffled sobs and dread.
Mother, I always had longed for your love;
though you loved them, for you they never wept.
When your tired spirit had risen above,
I knew, my copious tears were inept;
meanwhile, we all assembled to remove
your slumbering corpse as it quietly slept.
Hours passed when we all gathered for your wake,
a stressful event that was neither good
nor sane as we all tried (for pity’s sake!)
to offer our condolences if we could.
As you laid there like stone — no more awake —
I felt all alone through fate’s victimhood.
The day was upon us: the ceremony
was on Sunday, which was dark and sunless;
dream-like and strange and weird, it was eerie;
distraught, overwhelmed, insane…I grew bloodless!
As they gave your last rite and obsequy,
I, too, died more than words could ever express.