tears in the morning

not much to say
‘s finally here
31st March
most hated day of the year

I’m blessed to have awakened
but still I cried
cause it’s 31st March
the day my mother died

I like to think she’s watchin’ me
from her perch in the sky far above
she’s sitting next to Daddy
both protect me with their love

for many other people
this is just another day
but for me, 31st March
is when Mommy went away

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it would be a hard task
ripping off that mask
unsure if she’s ready to share
certain that no one would care

new lines in her face point down,
grief makes her tired
it makes her frown

there’s no one
to apportion blame to
she’d ask for help
but she’s ashamed to

is she mad? she wonders,
are strangers really staring?
such a burden this is,
a load she’s tired of bearing

how long in the ground
before a body grows cold?
sorrow seductively questions
the point of growing old

lines deepen around her eyes,
that saw a bright future,
now dimmed by daily cries

copyright © 2019 KPM

Mother’s Day

it’s the weekend
a time I used to love
but in this incarnation –
I’ve become a mourning dove

Friday, Saturday,
the days are all the same
there’s a constant ache in my chest
I can barely remember my name

I used to get excited
when Friday rolled around
now I’m tortured by the memory
of dark, rain-soaked ground

where have you gone, Mommy?
why did you leave?
I don’t know what I’m doing
all I can do is grieve

I can’t sleep – I can’t eat
food is unappealing
can’t even lose myself through sex
cause your death has left me reeling

I’ve plenty friends who love me
they support me in my pain
still I weep – I can’t accept
you’ve moved on to a higher plane

I want to believe you’re in heaven
with Daddy, & you’re both fine
tell me you’re at peace, Mommy
please send me some kinda sign

cause my life has been hell
since the Lord took you away
there’s no place to mail my card to
& tomorrow is Mother’s Day

copyright © 2017 KPM

talkin’ to Mommy

every day the sun still rises
even though you’re gone
can’t help but wonder why it does that,
as I struggle to carry on

I do my usual household chores:
I cook, hang laundry on the line
people tell me I look tired
I lie with a smile – tell them that “I’m fine”

& I wonder why I lie,
when for their thought I don’t give a toss
tell me what to do, Mommy
how do I deal with your loss?

I know how much you missed me,
cause I lived so far away
but distance did not steal our love,
& you still lived, so I was okay

& now I’m lost, Mommy
I’ve passed depression or feeling blue
how do I go on without you –
tell me Mommy, what do I do?

your passing has revived
all my ancient childhood fears
I’m crying in my sleep,
my pillow sags with tears

you were an awesome mother,
the best any kid ever had
it’s as if my heart’s stopped beating,
my life’s now bleak & sad

I hope you hear me, Mommy,
when I talk to you each day
our conversations were unfinished –
so much I didn’t get to say

for the remainder of my life
your absence I will rue
tell me, please, Mommy,
now what do I do?

copyright © 2017 KPM

72 hours

I took a walk
on the beach tonight
passin’ people drinkin’
by a campfire’s light
there were stars in the sky
they shone so bright
& two of them were my mother’s eyes

under a cold dark sky
I walked in my homeland
listening to the waves
as the kissed the damp sand
still feeling that last touch
of my mother’s hand
beneath the gaze of her starry eyes

someone wake me from this nightmare
I’d like a reprieve
this new reality
I don’t want to believe
my tears mingle with the lake
as all alone I grieve
thinkin’ of my mother’s eyes

copyright © 2017 KPM

in praise of cowboys & angels (elegy for George Michael)

I can see him as a cowboy
I imagine the plains he rides
as he lopes around the ranch
with sexy, long-legged strides

a light shines from his eyes
unshielded from the sun’s glare
revelling in the summer heat
the Santa Ana wind that loves his hair

in my mind’s eye there’s an image
of this cowboy in his saddle
doin’ what he loves
as he fights a private battle

he tends his sheep & pigs
around the cattle he rides in rings
his muscles throbbing pleasantly
as he composes the songs he sings

so angelic was this cowboy
with love stamped upon his face
that the Lord could not resist
taking him to a better place

gone was this cowboy, this angel
a flawed & human soul
composer of the background music
which made so many people whole

& those who loved the cowboy wept
they pulled their hair, they cried
aghast & unbelieving:
surely their muse had not died?

his music had been a crucial part
of my most formative years
I freely admit the morning after
I awakened covered in tears

but these tears I shed are quiet
aloud I will not weep
I’ll celebrate Jesus & Christmas
& pray for the cowboy’s restful sleep

copyright © KPM 2016