This is one of many poems I wrote after my husband died. |
Who's Deader - You or Me? People say you were dead When I watched that last breath. Of course, we say, while deep inside, We know something else But dare not speak it. We hardly know what to say - Because what we know is so invisible As you are now. (Or so they say) Yes, I'm still walking, Breathing, swallowing, My pulse throbbing steadily While you are still, cold, Sand in a bottle. You can't laugh at my dumb jokes Or get angry at my impatience. What I would give for A pungent disagreement with A New York curse or two. But then those moments Made you sicker, I fear And I'm sorry. Regret rises in me Like a black sunrise, Shedding darkness on the truth And burying who I really am. Have I plastered that emotion On my heart Like a badge of honor? As if I should be praised, While I make a wilted plea To some generic, unemployed God: Give me another chance! I hear you chuckle at all this drama; So alive, that laugh. Who's deader - you or me? |