Haunting
It's been four weeks and three days
Since my mother's spirit dismissed its existence,
One month, precisely, since we buried her mortality,
And I'm spending this entire Saturday afternoon
In the dank basement of Saul and Charlotte's domain,
When I could be exploring November's warm outdoors.
Why am I compelled back to this empty, sunless silence,
And what might I be looking for,
Amidst the shadows of their unbearable absence?
Maybe I've followed the echoes of my parents' nowhere,
To ask them this haunting question:
"Would it be OK if I never say good-bye to you?"
11/12/11
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