Painting Graves

I’m painting the graves on this wonderful day

While my heart beats as drum

And the leaves fall like rain

The color is crystalline, frozen and clear

Memories wander: hope, sorrow, and fear

One grave in specific catches the most

Of this sad, lonely color that may soon turn to frost

A mother, it says, whose life was short lived

Whose pain did not last long

And my heart finally gives

In swift moderation, the beating increases

Like my heart the leaves continue

To fall into pieces

A shadow, a whisper, a hope for old love

Rises up, rises up, and then floats up above

Above all the sadness, old memories and lore 

And into a tomorrow where the pain is no more

If only I knew then what I don’t wish to know now

This sad, lonely mother, who’s such a reminder

Of my own mother �" oh how I wish to find her

To explain to her my disappointment

To demand all the love

That I once had lent

If only, if only, I could take back yesterday

The anticipation, the letdowns,

The lonely words she would say

Maybe, just maybe,

I wouldn’t suffer the pain that she gave

And this mother would not get

This new paint on her grave