for the lost mother of a lost son

ClutchTheDawn

she slams the door
screams at the wind
curses her luck
and the rain on her neck
she can smell spring
fresh soil
and tire swings
things reborn
and things long gone
and all the things
she can't comprehend

before the roadside bomb
there were grass stains
and bruised shins
long before
the half-mast flag
the were hockey games
and for the fences swings
dusty trophies
on the shelf
make room for
dying's thank-you medal

she walks, and walks
and walks...
to that place
she first let him go
skipping the sidewalk cracks
but her back
is long broken
succumbing to the ache
from the weight
each mother bares

the rain washes
three days of mourning
as she falls
upon the steps
the bell rings
they sidestep her
in untied shoes
and SpongeBob backpacks
they seem unaware
of the half-mast flag
and she's glad for that
and for their innocence

she tells herself
he died for them
she has to
he would have believed it
on that fateful day
with the roadside bomb

Slavko

very nice,
you shoud keep it up...

ClutchTheDawn

thanks