longing for a child who died

The Summons

Written by Susan Noyes Anderson on . Posted in Poems about Death

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©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson

I am the one who knows
you are not present.
And yet, I come to stand
beside your grave.
Hungry for any service
I might render,
hoping to cross a bridge
I cannot pave.

The falling leaves fall prey
to my intention…
dispatched with dirt and
droppings whisked away.
The granite brushed, re-brushed,
watered, re-watered.
A new poem read, a song
that matters played.

At home I send out
invitations to you:
CDs of David Gray,
my “Good Witch” show.
I mock it every Sunday
in your honor,
believing (in my heart)
your heart will know.

Where is the fail-safe way
to draw you to me?
That certain call, that wish
upon a star?
Alas, I do not know
the secret summons.
So I am left to find you
where you are.

If this poem resonates with you, you may also relate to Here with Me, Son-Light, and A Slice of Joy.

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