Thursday, November 12, 2009

The Strike of a Clock

Death came suddenly while I was asleep,
On unobserved silent feet,
I didn’t know when I went to bed,
In the morning I’d learn you were dead.

At fifty two with the strike of a clock,
The life I knew came to a stop,
One little movement of a clocks hands,
Ended your precious life span.

Each day now is a struggle to get through,
It’s as if half of me went with you,
Your young life was far too brief,
How does a mother live with this grief?

There is no answer for this question,
I can only pray the pain will lessen,
And that all thoughts will be of joy,
For the gift of my cherished boy.


strokeofliving said...

((Hugs)) to you today Claire Ann.

strokeofliving said...

Claire Ann,

I just received your email. Since I follow your blog I receive an immediate notification once you post a new poem. Today's was lovely as usual. Now because a thought of me came across your mind as you posted your feelings of grief about Graham makes me honored to be corresponding with you.

Yes minutes can change our world in an instant. You and I unfortunately have intimate experience with that.

No we are never alone even when we are completely isolated. Life means that we continue to move forward, whatever that means and however we do it. Graham is with you every moment now. His love guides your poetry as you have written to me prior. Meditation is all about being present, that is why I sought out to do it correctly. That is when we can rest. That is the time we can be void of thought. That is the time we can pray. I love the process.

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