At what point can I call myself a poet?
If I could fully articulate what and how I felt
at the moment when I watched my mother
slowly slip away from me and this world
If I could completely convey the oppressive sense of loss
the helplessness, the hopelessness, the loneliness
the shocking realization of irreversibility, the finality
If my words could make you feel the draining of my soul
the relinquishment of having even an instant in the future
when it seems that all is perfect in my world
If I could construct a phrase that could relate the emptiness
behind the grief that comes with knowing that no longer would
birthdays and holidays be wrapped in her joy and infectious spirit
If my poem could shout out to you the overwhelming regret
that accompanies the inability to hold her, to kiss her, to say I'm sorry
or to tell her just how very much I love her ever again
If I were truly able to do these things
maybe then I could call myself a poet
Happy Mother's Day, Mom
I miss you & I love you!
****'s & ooo's