Appearing
Her appearance while I slept
brought such peaceful dreaming
and the delight
of seeing her happy, feeling
the happiness travel from her
to everyone who knew her
misery, inner conflict, desires
unfulfilled. For someone who
always had to be doing something,
there was a bliss in her being,
in her simply being able
to be a being. Such a pity
she had to die for this.
Beautiful poem. And wow, it packs a punch! I scanned through your other blogs to make sure it wasn't your Mum you were talking about
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