Grief
Judith
Anderson
Those
who stare see poise and peace
But
I am a statue,
Hollow,
Stored
in darkness,
The
darkness found in deep caves
Or
dank tunnels long forgotten...
If
hope or joy exist, they are as ephemeral
As
light reflected from butterfly wings
Or
wisps of mare’s tail clouds
In
a hot desert sky—
Either
remembered or imagined—
I
can’t tell which.
I
am empty.
Soon
I must make a choice,
To
accept the darkness,
Or
seek to find again
The
ephemeral,
If
they do exist.
***
Judith
Anderson lives on 20 acres at the end of a dead end road in
St. Clair County. She recently obtained her first Confederate
Rose plant and points with pride when it blooms, but as much as
she loves flowers, she is more famous as a "seed undertaker"
than gardener. She is more successful as a grandmother and wife
and mother, and to fill out her life, she works with her husband
in a nonprofit organization.
©
Judith Anderson