Tragedy

Things have halted, while life proceeds.  By this, I mean I have entered a small episode of depression over the past month and a half.  The source of this depression is the death of my mother, who passed December 11th of last year.  She was fifty years old, and it has been quite devastating for me.

I feel so much pain that I cannot begin to describe.  But I don't feel like typing out its extent, going into detail of how I wish our last conversation was a bit more personable, how I think about things such as how she won't be present at my wedding.  Or when I have children.  Thinking about all those missed experiences sends me into a deep trench of grief, and I burrow myself away to shed endless tears.  Endless tears.  The support of friends and family have been astounding, but I often feel like it is not enough to cover the big gaping hole I feel is glaringly obvious in my life. And so I have to trudge on through life, through the mundane, insignificant hours of my part-time job, through the extensive assignments and workloads brought upon this school semester (Note to self: never take six classes again).

And so I wrote a poem.  But I didn't feel the menial urge to explicate every detail I am experiencing.  And writing this poem has helped, to some large, sometimes small degree in coping with this tragedy. So here it is, for your enjoyment and my expression (and perhaps, I do not believe I am quite finished with scribbling on this matter):

The Fairy Singer

I lost my mother--

abruptly, unexpectedly

a rude interruption by

infarctus myocardii

--Only a half-century she was

Not even a quarter was I

Nor my sister, nor my brother

An untimely loss

A gross understatement

I performed my weeping

My wailing

In the time allotted

But bereavement offered very little

In the way of healing

For my mother is still gone

A cold emptiness in the house

In my messages

In the stretching hours of my birthday

And of hers

My life continues orbit

And I do not share in the collected opinions

That she smilingly awaits for my doomsday

Against soft, pink clouds in a golden sky

Her body decays like any other

With the embalmed visage everyone compliments

But is only a haunting shadow of her living beauty

Her soul, a series of electrical impulses

Harvested by some magnetic force

For energy is neither created

Nor destroyed

My mother is far away from me

Lost amongst a sea of stars

I look at Castor and Pollux and she is not there

Then turning my gaze to Ursa Major

I imagine her sharing conversations with Mother Bear

About her own twins

And her little boy

Her pride in all of them

One girl who stole her ambition

The other girl her face

And the boy took the shine in her eyes

And all share some measure of her intelligence

Or perhaps she has drifted to some distant galaxy

Looking for the stories of fancy she so adored

But I do not think she would wander far

From her three beloved, sparkling stars

So when I search for her in the invisible lines of space

Of the endless universe

Or in the rolling countryside of her youth and ours

Standing brilliantly green, an ode to favorites

My search often yields nothing

I lament her apparent absence, leaving me and us

Alone to face future and obstacles without her wit

Without her benign presence

But when I crave her counsel 

I can hear the wise, whispered words

Undeniably hers.

But only in a peaceful moment

Of utter solitude

Can be heard the private music,

The enchanting lyrics

Of the Fairy Singer

© 2015 Kelly R. Michaels