when i found out i no
longer knew how to grieve

the paper bent back where
someone had shattered the glass

even my Mother could not mother me:

i heard in her voice her attempt, first and
final, to return my own humour

that unfamiliar love hit my chest

though (i needed an arm, and still
and again) i

return to the soles of my shoes
on the pavement, curb
burning, shards dug
into rubber

i forced out
on my own
one by
one

when i found out i no
longer knew how to trace

my own steps

Filed under: poems Tagged: alone, comfort, family, marriage, poem, poetry, quiet, strength, tired