Tables set in lace, holding plates of food, pictures all around
the house, portraying images of mother, sister, wife - a woman
of great love.
Bedroom no longer containing a bed, it has become a shrine of
statues, flowers and pictures in loving memory of her instead.
Family gathered together mourning her passing through tears,
hearts gently breaking with the sorrow held closely inside.
Children close together, each enveloped in a space of sadness
all their own.
Comprehending death is an individual endeavor, each person is
on a separate path, feeling the sorrow pulling at their own
hearts.
One son, retarded from birth, sitting in his usual chair by
the door is dressed in a suit.
Kneeling before him, taking his hand in mine, he blurts out
like a child, 'my Mom is gone - she's dead'.
Tears hurrying from his eyes as he openly cries for her,
gently hugging, comforting him in his lost sorrow, I pray
for him because he has lost his mother and cannot understand
like the others.
He has been washed ashore on an island of pain all his own, a
child - yet grown.
Beauty of his mother, shines brightly from his soul, reaching
out, looking for solace with crystal clear eyes of sorrow,
having lost the joy of past tomorrows.
Family soon will come back to the home, sitting, eating,
talking with one another, remembering the good times and
wonderful memories they all shared with their Mom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem