When you screamed at the river,
I cried alone in silence,
When you cursed the currents,
I stood loosing more than you knew.
When you wrote poetry of loss,
Recollecting his being,
I mourned the never knowing,
Never seeing.
While you sat spewing rage at 4am,
I sat haunted for weeks on end,
When you packed up his life that you had for 36 years,
I sat wishing I had more of him.
While you carried his ashes home,
All the while plotting an attack,
I blissfully unware,
Felt that knife in my back.
While you smother your other adult son,
And hex the river for all that is gone,
I am desperately trying to be present for my little one,
To not allow his life to come undone.
You mourned your adult son,
I mourned him with you,
But I had more to mourn than you,
I didn't just lose him I lost his baby too.
And now I have lost all respect for you.
