Thin Air

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Thin Air By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee I reached out into the air Reaching toward something unseen Hoping to find ... to hold my son's hand I felt nothing as I held my hand out I moved my hand back ... forward as if I was moving a curtain so I could see Again ... nothing was there I closed my eyes ... a warm tear flowed down My cheek ... as I stood there I bowed my head into my hands Knowing I will go through the rest of my life Searching thin air ... hoping to find my son You who haven't lost a child can't understand How can you when you have your child You think ... thank God it's her ... not me I'm glad you can think that way So you won't be searching for your child Hoping for something to come from thin air Note by this Author ... Grieving Mother A grieving mother is always searching for her child ... be it a likeness or a sound, scent. This grieving mother hopes to just get to speak a few moments with her son ... if it can happen to someone else ... it can to her, also. The grief gets easier over years ... it never goes away. It's like the fish underneath the water ... it can jump out any moment. Like the splashes of water from the fish ... grief lashes at a grieving mother's heart. No, it never goes away ... it's always beneath the surface laying low until a likeness, sound, scent triggers it ... like the bait on a fishing pole. Sometimes ... a big fish ... sometimes, a little fish. Whether people like it or not who knows a grieving mother ... whether grief makes them uncomfortable or not ... doesn't matter. Grief is there whether one likes it or not. It's a fact of life. We live, we die ... we are one way or the other. Poem/photo written/owned by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee.