Heavy heart

Sometimes, this is what it feels like....



http://stillstandingmag.com/2015/06/liked-boxes-played-better/

I Liked the Other Boxes You Played in Better

June 24, 2015 by Angela Miller

Today I carried
the heaviest thing
a mother is ever
asked to carry—

Down the aisle
of the longest
path I’ve ever
been asked to walk—

From the back
to the front
of the church
where we sang songs of praise
together just days before,
you sitting snugly on my lap.

My steps, like old
woman shuffles—
aged 100 years in a day—
unsteady and painstakingly
s l o w—

My tears trailed
like a leaky faucet
that will never
be fixed,
a freshly flooded
river of grief and love.

My wailing a new
book of psalms,
as I carried you
in the very over-priced box,
that forever holds
the remains of
your perfect
little-man body,
in your blue
and green-footed
dinosaur pajamas.

I pressed my hand
firmly onto the
outside of the box,
lingering,
lingering,
lingering—

as if I pressed hard
enough I’d touch your
warm baby-soft skin again,
as if I waited long enough
you’d jump out alive
like a jack-in-the-box,
grab my lingering hand,
and shake me awake from
this wretched nightmare—

As if I hobbled slowly enough,
you’d clasp my open hand tightly
on the outside of that morbid box
that held you today,
where just yesterday
my arms held you softly with love—

Today I carried
the heaviest thing
a mother is ever
asked to carry—

Down the aisle
of the longest
path I’ve ever
been asked to walk—

From the back
to the front
of the church,
and with a primal sound
that defied all words,
I placed you,
along with my own
decomposing remains,
forever at the altar,
forever to be buried,
five feet underground