You take me to your pain
I really don't want to gain
Feelings about this struggle;
For I know I'll muddle
Through the darkness
of each motherhood weakness.
I don't want to look at empty rooms
For I dread the night that looms
When my love will be echoes
Thrown away with old shoes.
As a mother your life was an oblation
Selfishness was not a sensation
That guided your days
And shaped your prayers.
But you take me to your pain
And I feel it is insane
To grieve for what I've longed for
To weep for what I've hoped for.
Not home, not yet, the road less travelled
was travelled.
The abruptness of its ending
So suddenly descending
Upon my being that's been deflated-
This darkness is so hated.
We proudly wore our motherhood days
We responded to our call with no delays.
It was what our hearts had longed for
And yet now we cry, "Is there more?"
You take me to your pain
These problems - not mundane;
Let's walk together on this path
He promises to be with
Us. We walk not alone,
then or now.
Let's receive what He'll allow
With a prayer
Let us bow.


Comments: 4
I don't want to look at empty rooms
For I dread the night that looms
When my love will be echoes
Thrown away with old shoes.
And then the ending sums up our journey of being - we walking together, with God holding our hands.
This is very well done, indeed, Cathryn!
Thank you for sharing this hauntingly beautiful poem.
For years this has been one of my struggles, "what happens after they are gone" BUT I'm quite busy now with everything and content but have a very dear friend whose two kids are just gone and she's struggling. so, they poem is to her first and then about us. I'll have to look back at it about the dying aspect. I do believe though that what w'eve hoped for and prayed for was their independence, not someones dying. I do write about grief; you might enjoy looking it up in my published articles, "Can Grief be Called Good".