August 2000

April 28, 2008
By Julia Richardson, East Walpole, MA

in one summer, we were all forced to start life over,
and not the in easy, self-renewing way. No, it was the kind
where children ask sincerely for the first time, 'Why?'
when we saw Mom's perfect hands bruised by IVs.
I woke up the minute she left
dad came home, the worn out veteran
it's finally all over, he said
I was glad.

Despite the careful summer away in camps,
and the nights in someone's home besides my own,
it was clear the brand new house
was also going to be the start of a new life
where 'Mom' was a role doled out between us.

Ladies started to drop by, apologizing
with their eyes, their blouses un-ironed,
and lipstick smudging their cheeks.
I suppose they helped us: dinner, dishes, house-sitting.
But I had wished they would leave only sympathy,
and let us figure out what family is supposed to mean
when we have to be by ourselves.

my eyes were bright, when they saw
how glorious the summer was that day.
To the grievers and black parade I wished only
for a head to turn and see that glorious blue
heaven above celebrating the coming
of earth's sweetest woman.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!