I remember the day in Spring
when my mom died.
We so dazed walked outside
into glare’s warm
March sunshine,
the hospital parking lot unreal,
gray pavement
emptied out,
spectral,
surreal.
death, no words define
or detain you now,
I muster the muscle
to march on
somehow,
the body feels dull pain
and absence’ sting--
an invisible wound
pure, unclean.
Fortified by who
knows what--
we step and inch
between
our goals ~ our hope ~
and the massive
unforeseen.
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