“Learn to love the living Than mourn the dead forever”

She was hit…
A slap so rough
Still resounding, in her ears
Turning her dark cheek red enough

She didn’t cry
Death is a comedy
She repeats among shirt crisp sighs

She looks wounded
On her heart lay her little son’s hand
Her dreams of future are being towed
Two set of eyes, telling the same story.

She didn’t cry
When her son asked
“Momma where is that magic wand
You use when dada plays dead”

They all come to peep into her eyes
To see how she is coping
She has her head turned
Away from the probing intruders
Silently pleading to not read the answers concealed.

She didn’t cry
Death is permanent
She says among shirt crisp sighs

She is now bleeding
Pain of lost love
Unceasing questions forcing her to grow up
Turning 51 at 24 is magical

And there was her slap so TIGHT
As its better to feel pain than nothing at all
The pain of the tough lesson
She still didn’t cry
And repeats her lesson among shirt crisp sighs

“Learn to love the living
Than mourn the dead forever”