Your Poetry Dot Com - I Walked Past Your Grave Today

I walked past your grave today,
still to mourn the nothing that I feel;
sadness, loss, I know I should,
yet in your death, even now there/'/s naught to say;
you, composed of solid false, so very little real,
for me still a mountain/'/s pain,
squishing, squirming, ever so to feel.

Pigeons dropped this morn upon your stone,
a smeary splotch on Jesus in the eye;
like you, caring not what they befoul,
off on wing to stain all where they roam;
again, again, I anguish why
forgiveness gasps /'/neath memory/'/s moan.

I know you tried to be a mother;
proper, right these last twenty years,
in as much as one who could who never was,
Smothering pain in powder, pills;
then dawned a day I found my stumbling life
repeating yours in lurching buzz.

I damn you now as droppings in the rain
drooping gray and white;your chiseled stone,
as church bells peal, washing clean other graves
that on you no rain could ever atone.
I can/'/t relinquish, even now, bone deep beyond my soul,
the stain that/'/s left me, now a dad, like you, mother, quite alone.

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