amy amy amy

When Amy died, I remember people

Talked a lot about how life

Is best lived.

 

People spoke about Amy's hands:

How, often, men did not touch them

To touch her.

 

Indeed, it was the case that most men

Were only reaching for another.

 

When Amy was lowered, they blamed

The hair collecting at her shoulders;

How every tiny strand gathered

Like petals at her back.

 

Amy used to tell me her hair

Made her feel accomplished.

 

When Amy died, I hope she discovered how to move

The heart from flesh to stone.

I hope she understood that you have to do some things

Alone in this world. I hope she understood

There are some things she will never do, like

 

Taking the breath away from your sadness, like

Finding a love that bends as grass does: 

From being sat on for so long, and suddenly 

Standing up. 

Author's Note

i've been writing and not sharing. i am sharing.

Reviews

[...]

your words describe well what mean sadness and end. but on the end i feel some hope. that s great poem . you made it well

[Sami Khalil]

One word: Awesome...:).........

[sayed Mudasir Ali]

The story is nice and confusion in the character. I dont know whether you were teasing her or praising her. God knows best.

[zainul]

You have shared a nice piece.
Love these lines most:
"Amy used to tell me her hair
Made her feel accomplished."

[Steven]

Glad to see a new post from you..

"How every tiny strand gathered
Like petals at her back."

is brilliant in how much you captured all in two lines. The beauty of the petals, the fragility, and yet their nuisance, when clustered or sticking how we don't want. And the beautiful things we brush aside, or overlook, in a rush of self-motivation. There's a lot that could be gleaned there.

"like
Taking the breath away from your sadness"

her ability to triumph over the one smothering her happiness never realized. Her defiant stance against the weight of oppression. The pushing away of the clouds and leaning into the sunlight for sustenance. All of what we wish, after the fact, those who we loved and who passed would have done for themselves. I know this is a deeply personal poem, yet there is quite a bit everyone can glean from it. Nice one.