GRIEF Poem: Stunning, by Penny Freeland

You knew exactly
what it would do to me. You,
who knew me best. It was like the death
of three of my people, two of them
grandchildren, one of them
you,
my daughter.

I have to go about
like an amputee:
a quarter of a heart,
rubber legs,
arms sawed off
limping about avoiding
the toy section,
Christmas,
the pail and shovel,
“Baby Shark,”
grilled cheese,
and the whole world.
You all are so woven
into the tapestry of my life, I spend
my hours trying not to remember
the touch of his tiny hand,
his head in my lap,
your soft hair, gilded waterfall.

Sometimes I think
I hear them, stumbling
up the stairs, spilling
into my room, they poke
their heads in and
then, amazingly,
there you are just behind them!

I dream of all of you.
I call your name but can make no sound.

I can make no sound.