Dreams I’ve chased are long gone,
The morning after a new life has taken over the inner storm-
No longer mourn for what I never had-
Nor can I mourn for the passing of my Dad-
The morning after, I can no longer feel sad-
Only to awaken to the life I now have-
No more covered in the Black Death robe-
As I begin to silence the inner cry within this core-
No longer to weep no more!
The morning after –
Letting it all go time to empty the cluttered hall.
This weeping widower awakens to life’s beckoning call-
Removing this death stone from above my head-
And begin to open the road for what lies ahead
Refusing to give in to fear and dread-
The morning after I’ve paid my dues,
Always indulging in these darkened hues-
I am my own muse!
This soul I must renew-
The morning after-
No I can’t explain the inevitable loss-
Remove from my skin the grimy dross-
Untangle this self from the haze and the moss-
Untangle this self from the strangling vine-
Freeing the self to touch the Divine-
Making my way into the new-
The Morning After-
Saying goodbye to a mother I never knew.

Photo: The Sun, Azarel