Defying Sensibility

Years have passed since I buried you beneath green grasses drenched with dew; I placed the blossoms, one by one, a blanket for my only son, you, my heart's flower, blooming fair, a mother's rose, uniquely rare. The bitter grief bubbles inside, rolling hot waves, a searing tide, dark desperate, wrenching prayers, sharp, shattered facets of despair. Anguish climbs this long hill with me, the crest of which I never see. How can one stand beside the mound where love's sweet baby flesh lays bound? Faith defies sensibility and blossoms in eternity. Copyright, March 28, 2015 Faye Lanham Gibson