The Waves Never Settle
Grief doesn’t mean forgetting
You think because I was a child,
I didn’t hear, see, and feel the silence, Mom.
You think I didn’t know you in the quiet hours,
sitting alone in the dark,
your shoulders shaking with uncried tears.
My witness didn’t matter,
you believed you could lock me out
like a forgotten toy
or bury your sorrow in the shadows.
You think because I was young
I didn’t sense your hidden pain,
the way you wore your smile like a mask,
fading in and out like a distant echo.
My witness didn’t matter.
You think I didn’t know your secret struggles,
but I counted the days
until your laughter would return.
I felt the weight of your sorrow
pressing down like a heavy fog,
each day another layer of grief.
You think I didn’t know you abandoned joy,
but I saw you staring out the window,
lost in a world that left you behind,
your heart tangled in memories.
I felt and heard the consequences,
things you will never grasp,
the waves of your despair.
Your laughter became a distant memory,
a melody I longed to hear again,
as you folded the clothes with trembling hands,
waiting for the sun to break through.
You think I didn’t notice your nights alone,
but I lay awake, listening to the silence,
the ghost of your sorrow lingering
like an unwanted guest.
The waves never settle.
I searched for you in every corner of my mind,
longing for a glimpse of the woman
I knew before the storm.
You think because I was too young to voice it,
my pain was inconsequential.
That changed when I stood before you,
a grown child with words unspoken.
I offered you understanding,
a truth you never expected.
But grief doesn’t mean forgetting.
It is simply a journey through the heartache.
The waves never settle.
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