Woodland Spring

Crying in the woodland sprawl,
there’s no time for me
to watch you die Mom-Maw.
Your frame so small, your skeletal jaw,
It was easier to get drunk instead,
Face mortality, face death,
give up on my illusion of childhood.
While you sold the air your last breath.

I remember standing at your grave
and why I chose to hideaway.
Face my end, with college ahead.
I miss you now, but couldn’t face you then.
What love do we concede, when another soul is set free?
The indifferent black mass spreading through your bones relentlessly.
I know you’re in a better place,
a place where you can’t see us grieve.

This growing pain, the birth of the unkown,
this granite stone, in the freshly dug earth
next to your husband who died so long ago.
You can finally be together Mom-Maw.

The woods no longer call.