When the dead dies and leaves
your side, the pain shall fade
away in mere time.  The raw
tears that you cry will sink inside
your veins until you shine in sight.  
Those were the words that my
mom told me as a child.  But as I
stand here by your grave breathing
in the dead taste, the awful sounds
of scorched hearts lingering in the
distance, painstaking drums rumbling
gray smoky songs, I can feel the hairs
on my flesh lifting in lonesome depths.
I never thought I’d see the day I’d bury
my mom into the ground and watch life
drift away into untimely mazes.  
I’m trying to be strong and solid
like you raised me, the days
you lectured to me about the role
of a man, how to be bold and brave,
a genuine creation full of power
and insight.  You were an astonishing
gem, a glittering ocean of iridescent
poetry, an inner rhyme harmonizing
inside my mind, a strong working
woman willing to make a house
a home.  You sacrificed everything
to see my dreams come true,
the day when I graduated from
college and made you proud, the hard
work and determination you instilled
inside me so that I’d grow into a
magnificent man.  Now as I stare
at your existence beyond the grave,
the yellowish trees stuck in sorrow,
revealing the deeply crushed diction
beneath earthly dwellings, I know
I must be brave and continue
moving forward in this world
of spinning waves.