When her son died she was broken…like a wounded bird

unable to fly as her sorrow and her anger

wrestled with each other to be heard.


Some days her sorrow would win…and her crying would not stop

Other days it was her anger that climbed up to the top.


So many question left unanswered:

Why did this have to be?

Why take one so young and innocent?

Why him…instead of me.?


It was anger and sorrow and sorrow and anger…until she reached a point when…

she began to wonder if happiness would ever return to her again.


But her happiness was patient…it gave her all the time she needed to grieve

until slowly, quietly, gingerly…back into her life it did weave.


Then one day her smile resurfaced

It’s as if her heart that had stopped…resumed beating

and she began enjoying her happiness again

even if, at first, those moments were fleeting.


And though she will always be wounded…

she knows once again she will soar…

She knows once again she’ll spread her wings and fly….

just never as high as before.



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Starward's picture

The poem is quite poignant,

The poem is quite poignant, and the last line is heartbreaking.


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