Sorting

My first post

My mother, for months gone

This small box she kept close

Everyday items          

Another for me to work on    

 

Buttons and beads

Pencils and pens

Put that there

Discard these 

 

A now familiar routine

Emotional and tedious

Exploring a life only half known

Filling gaps in between

 

A single square of paper below

Turned from me

Reaching thoughts flash

Postage? Note? Photo?

 

Kept here

A reminder

Something she needed

Held dear

 

What thing, what person

Held this place by her side

Curiosity and jealousy

For my mother’s affection

 

Turning I see a boy

School uniform, Smiling

I remember that face

Full of joy

 

It’s me.

 

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

A sparely put, terse, but very powerful piece here. Grief is a somber experience, sometimes frustrating in the ways we discover how little we really knew of the life of one departed. If handled well, however, it can help us retire the past without pain. Well done.