“You’re never given more than you can handle”
sits like a lump in my throat, right below a
scream.
The truth in broken is I can’t carry
another platitude or dry one tear in a flood.
Both morning and midnight are gray hours
I must watch my child cry for love she feels,
but can no longer hold in her arms.
Helpless presses against my ribs with
an epitaph I can’t unwrite.
an epitaph I can’t unwrite.
My heart vibrates in shattering wails,
why, why, why…I know there’s no answer.
©Susie Clevenger 2019
I am sure I didn't meet the description for this prompt, but this is the truth I find myself living.
©Susie Clevenger 2019
I am sure I didn't meet the description for this prompt, but this is the truth I find myself living.
Comments
another platitude or dry one tear in a flood."
‘Helpless presses against my ribs with
an epitaph I can’t unwrite.’
It's at times like this when a mother wants to take all the pain from her daughter.