Only a Word

Thu, 10/20/2016 - 20:57 -- amoiib

April 17th, 2016
It was just a date on the calendar, that morning
I wore the same shoes from yesterday, not bothering
to wipe off that smudge.
I wasn't in my Sunday's best and yet she
A matriarch, a saint, only known on our block.
A treasure that can only be seen if you had a key
to our family lock.

A woman's whose heart,a typewriter,clicking and tacking on will.
A will that was forever until after the sun rose
On this morning, she was still.
Yet hearts pounding, tears flowing, my mothers' many vessels shattering.
and the clock, still ticking in the room of the passed

Tell me,have you ever seen a mountain turn to ash?
Yes, how else was I supposed to move on,
to the next chapter.
My pages blank, for months
And today I wrote a word.
Dense and saddened, not by its meaning but by its memory
That word is Casmine.
Yet my thought never touches the page.
Long live the Queen.
The woman of our block
who wills me to write
and keep listening to the tick of my clock.

This poem is about: 
My family

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