Aftermath
A grief poem
I watched you die two years ago today.
I try to write about you but don’t know what to say.
I used to document your every move,
but now I just can’t find a groove.
So proud, I wanted to share you with the world.
Like any father, I loved my little girl.
The way you would drag me around by my finger;
these fragmented memories of our bond are all that linger.
Six years passed so quickly in a blur.
My greatest fear now is that one day I will forget her.
I cling to these moments so tightly, for they’re all I have to remember.
Her fire has died, but wait; there’s still a smoldering ember.
What can I possibly say now that would matter
about a precious life taken away, leaving so many in tatters?
So instead I sulk and wallow;
a bitter pill that’s mine alone to swallow.
Last year, I went on a Hawaiian hike.
It seemed a fitting way to celebrate my tyke.
Today seems so much harder.
Are the feelings real, or am I just playing the martyr?
