You died on a Monday evening.
The Weather Channel says it was raining and windy
but I don’t remember that.
What I do remember is
the phone call in the wee hours of the morning.
The three-hour drive to the airport.
The Delta employees being too kind too helpful,
(there must be a secret code on one’s ticket for
“Her mom is dying.”)
The long wait for the rental car, the longer wait for luggage.
The traffic at rush hour, the helicopter, the rubberneckers.
The plea to god to let me arrive in time.
The dad on the porch crying.
The clock frozen at 6:21.
The dead body in your bed.
The stillness of the room, the energy gone.
(Where does it go?)
The lock of hair I snipped from your head.
The whispered good-bye.
The dog standing in the driveway.
Christy Anna Jones holds a BA in Psychology from the University of Georgia. Christy lives in Texas with her husband, cat, two dogs, two donkeys and ten cows. She enjoys running and writing and is addicted to Belvita Cookies. Her work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Halcyon Magazine, Emerge Literary Journal, and more. Visit Christy at christyannajones.com.
Tags: Christy Anna Jones, e-zine, ezine, hyperbole, longing, melancholy, melancholy hyperbole, new, poem, poet, poetry, poets, submit, The Tears, writing
Such an emotional write. It brought to mind all those I’ve lost. No-one should have to experience ‘those’ tears.
Hi Kathryn, thank you for your empathetic words. I really appreciate you taking time to read and comment. -Christy
Tweeted what I think about this. My. God.
Mary, I saw your very touching tweet, and I thank you dearly. A bottomless glass for an infinite thirst. -Christy