AFTER SHOCK
We could not comprehend how much she meant
Until the balance in her book was spent.
Her time of work and sacrifice was done
But not the prize and legacy she won.
As if the loss had paralyzed my speech,
When Mother passed away, I could not teach.
The knowledge I had shared before was locked,
And all the links between the facts were blocked.
We walked our mother to the land of death
We gathered as she took her final breath.
When she had passed, we traveled back to time.
We had to carry on, complete the climb.
(13 July 2008, Provo, Utah)
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2 comments:
this is simple yet deep. emotional without pathos. a very good balance. i also love that picture.
i probably should know this but, is there a name for that form you've been using in this and the above poem and several times before?
hope you're having a good weekend.
The form for this is a ten syllable line with couplet end-rimes. I like counting, so many of the poems are 8-6-8-6 syllable or 8-8-8-8 syllable stanzas. I am also iambic generally, but I don't let the accents dominate. The count is my major frame. The rime is just edging, like a border in a garden to keep the weeds out of the grass, and the grass out of the flower beds.
The weekend has been productive and progressive. We celebrated Pioneer Days with real connections. Our youth just got back from a trek that seems to mirror my experiences in Colorado.
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