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Bri Sawyer Poem
Wondering around the
cemetery a child's doll held
close to my breast my aching
heart shatters more and more
as I ask myself, couldn't this
all just be some sickening
nightmare, that I am about
ready to wake from?
I yearn to feel my child's warm
hand closed tightly round my
own, then perhaps I'll feel a bit
more alive and not so empty
and dead?
I look to the sky and see the
clouds are a sinister grey, so I
know it is in fact true... I am
an angel fallen from grace left
in the ashes of memories of
what was and what should of
been.
I crumple to my knees not
even giving a damn that my
dress shall be ruined in the
mud and pouring rain.
I look to the heavens and
scream until my voice is
nothing, but a distant memory
and all thats left is a fiery raw
ache of what once was my
voice.
I lay the doll down upon a
grave, bright green with spring
and the sun's gentle kisses and
press my trembling lips to the
cold marble of a headstone and
whimper indistinct words of
how if I could I'd give my own
life only to let you live once
more.
Copyright © Bri Sawyer | Year Posted 2012
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