ONCE THERE WAS A COUNTRY

I called that country
‘Childhood’. The seashore
is just a sugared
Waterfall. The blue
day a confetti of
Wasted sweetness.
I have no use for water.
No use for tears.
Having a beautiful mother, Growing
up and then not
being beautiful
in that way made
Me braver. It gave
me courage. I know
what immortality is.

The day’s spirit
is made of an autumn chill and rain.
The change in the
environment a small inheritance.
Daylight’s geography
is a blood knot. I am
lost and found again
in the tired sea of
That difficult, empty
country. Once, I knew
what love was, what to call that
personal velocity, that
speed but now
I am at the end of the world.

—————-

WATCHING EVERYTHING THROUGH A BLUR OF TEARS

I never went to
my aunt’s funeral.
Although I loved
her very much.
I couldn’t cope
with the grief of
losing her. Of never
seeing her again.
All I have is our conversations in the dark.
Her fragile life.
Her life, her life, her life.
Nothing ordinary
about her. Her
standing in the kitchen barefoot.
I think of writing

Her name in the
Sand every time
I go to the beach.
It will mean something to me.
Like the word ‘spirit’.
It will take away
The waves of regret
I sometimes feel
Of not going. Of not saying goodbye properly.
She’s ashen, salt,
And light. The key
To her soul a sword
In the same way
The pen that I feel in
My hand is to me.

—————-

ALONE IN MY GRIEF STRICKEN SADNESS

Shy daughter, I want her to say
I never wanted you
To have abandonment issues. I never wanted you
To talk about our relationship
To a psychotherapist
Or write about how I
Never wanted you.
All I want her to say is three words;
I love you. Not even
I love you most of all
Or I love you best. Just
Three simple words; I love you. And two more words
You’re mine; and five
More words; I have
Always wanted you, and three more for
The darkness of this open road called life;
You were wanted.

—————-

Poems © Abigail George
Image: Pixabay.com