Poetry through the Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Tiny feet
walk on graves,
bring her back to me.
bone
breath
flesh
smile
If magic could return
her to this world,
would I cast that spell?
Or can I believe
she has lived
her life and moved on
to other obligations,
leaving me
to find a way
to walk the earth
without her?
It’s okay to cry
and cry
and cry
because without her
all I am
is tears.
i breathe into her mouth
to bring life
as she once did for me
but she’s cold
like a lake in winter
please don’t hurt her
how can she be my mother
one instant
and the next
just a body
* * *
Grief is silent.
Grief is screaming,
lying in swatches of color
strewn around the room.
She will never
breathe
again
or, or
brush her hair
or watch silly shows on television
or fix breakfast
or worry about her daughter.
She’s alone now.
In a room
where it’s okay
to be cold.
Her hair
lies in quiet curls
against her head.
Her eyes focused
on family
I can’t see.
The dark corridors
of death
are lined with
my shortcomings.
I am lost and alone
in the space
surrounding her
missing life.