The Keening
©2020 Susan Noyes Anderson
image by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash
You died a man, yet in my heart,
you were my baby from the start…
my little blond-haired, blue-eyed boy…
solemn of thought, alive with joy.
You died a man, yet in my heart,
you were my baby from the start…
my little blond-haired, blue-eyed boy…
solemn of thought, alive with joy.
My heart searches relentlessly
to find you in each day.
I close my eyes and reach for you
in spirit, far away.
The world has moved beneath my feet,
but I can still touch ground,
more apt to lose my footing, but
more grateful when it’s found.
I am the unwieldy book
you would rather not read
that opened up well but then
took a late turn for the worse.
And now, duty bound, you cannot
simply put me down firmly.
Compelled, you must finish your start,
every chapter and verse.
A new level of missing you
has settled on my heart.
Year two, and I am still undone
by living life apart.
The wonder of Christmas has always been mine.
It was given to me as a child.
Mother told me the tale of that first holy night,
and Christ’s light filled her eyes as she smiled.
Another year has come and gone…
another decade, too.
The message is that life goes on,
no matter what we do.
I stood beside your grave one day,
not too long ago.
It was an extra visit, for
my heart was feeling low.