inside me there is a crazy woman
inside me there is a crazy woman
grieving for her son.
she is beating her fists on everything
she is pummeling the air
she is howling like wind
she is tearing her hair
and banging her head
and running
and running
into darkest nowhere.
sometimes her tears pour from my eyes
and her screams cascade from my mouth
and her anger
and her sorrow
and her terrible pain
shatter my bones
into sharp little bits
that pierce my skin
in a thousand bleeding
wounds.
inside me there is a crazy woman
grieving for her son.
grieving for her son.
she is beating her fists on everything
she is pummeling the air
she is howling like wind
she is tearing her hair
and banging her head
and running
and running
into darkest nowhere.
sometimes her tears pour from my eyes
and her screams cascade from my mouth
and her anger
and her sorrow
and her terrible pain
shatter my bones
into sharp little bits
that pierce my skin
in a thousand bleeding
wounds.
inside me there is a crazy woman
grieving for her son.
posted by 'Zann at 3:47 PM
2 Comments:
Thank you for the beauty and anger of this poem. I also had a son who died. Thank you for articulating what many of us cannot express.
This brings tears to my eyes. I can't even imagine losing a child. The pain must be unbearable.
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