Her Voice Low
After she was told,
the room got cold,
there was a long moment of silence,
and then she slowly rose,
holding the edge of her chair,
for support,
holding back tears,
fighting the fears,
it was a good thing the chair was there,
otherwise she would unquestionably have fallen over,
she could barely get a word out,
but God knew she wanted to shout,
then there was a calm,
then she spoke,
her voice low,
melodious,
and seemed to come everywhere at once,
finally, she cried,
and the news that her son died,
crushed her deep inside.
Copyright © Frank F. Atanacio | Year Posted 2009
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