When My Son Is Dead 16 Years
After you died, my
Beautiful boy,
Chaos ruled my life.
Desperate I was, to find you,
Even hired a private detective to
Follow you into the Afterlife,
Given he could pick up your scent.
How do the dead do it?
Integrate the living.
Join hands in a ghostly dance,
Keep one foot in each world –
Love?
Madness?
No. A tether to each
Other’s heart.
People, meaning well,
Quote Scripture,
Rescue my resurrection poems
So they feel better.
Today, you are dead 5,840 days.
Unfathomable. I still
Veer off course,
Wait for you by the door marked
X-It as if you’ll reappear. One day,
You’ll be dead longer than you lived.
Zip it! I scold myself, each year. Move on.
