Footsteps pounding, heartbeat racing, fear rising
You hear the voice that is said to do you no harm
you ask the question you already know the answer to, "Did she make it?" With a quick tear the voice says no
You can't cry, you can't even breathe. all you're able to do is stare. Stare into the nothingness that was once your everything.
Eventually the tears release, one by one they fall. With each tear apart of you leaves. The realization occurs. She is gone.
The phone calls begin, the doorbell is a constant back round noise. The hustle and bustle of people are no longer important, because the only footsteps you want to hear are gone.
The crowd begins to assemble. You preform the greatest mitzvah, the greatest good deed. Bury the dead. You slowly shovel 1, 2, 3 scoops of dirt onto the box of ashes that was once the person that gave you life. Your mother.
Piri Lanes 2/23/2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I'm stunned with so many emotions reading your blog for this day. All I can say is that I think about her and wish she were here, too. I love you, Piri. She is still in your heart and, although that doesn't give you the sounds of her footsteps, it keeps the pounding love she has for you right there when you want to feel it.
ReplyDelete