She stood rigid, towering with irony's strength, but swayed when she heard hollow whispers fade to silent echoes that left a skeleton beneath cold skin.
Grief spiraled wails between her lips, as the truth of death prevailed.
Rushing to her side, her son guided her to a secure stance. In that moment a child grew into a man, unto the eyes of his mother a hero he stands.
Tracey L. Hardie
This poem was written for a special friend who as a child became a hero to his mother when his father passed away.
Tracey,
I love this, everything about it, and the sentiment behind it! Very touching write! Your heart is showing in this one, and that always makes for good poetry!
The deep-dive literary meditations presented as stories, poems, and essays in The American Poet Who Went Home Again, A Mosaic of My Soul at Work, have captivated and inspired readers ever since its first paperback publication in 2008.
A homonymless man writes shows what it's like to look up the laid he skirts when you’re lying prone(d) to the sidewalk, beer / joint / needle dangling from your hand /lips / arm.
I love this, everything about it, and the sentiment behind it! Very touching write! Your heart is showing in this one, and that always makes for good poetry!
Hugs,
Maria
~E
A wonderful piece.
-James
Excellent tribute.
so beautiful
peg
Jack