Poetry

Internment

A year ago we put you into the ground                     

Your body

a bag of loose bone fragments

and sand colored ash


The small square in the ground could not fully contain you             

So pieces of you spilled out around the edges

We laughed about you being big boned

I visit that small square in the ground often                            

Although I could not bring myself to go today

I do not want to remember that you are gone                                       

That in your last days               we were deprived of your voice and your laugh


I do not want to remember the months before your death           

How I hid away, ashamed and angry                                                  

How I did not get to see you for the last father’s day                           

I did not get to hear about your last trip to Italy

So many regrets take up room in my heart                                           

And this pain is a fresh cut                                                                     

That I drag the razor across over and over again

I wish I could see you                                                                                 

And hold you one more time                                                                 

Oh, how I long to take back all the things done.                       

And my fear of things I left unsaid

I wish I could tell you              

That you were so much more than                                       


Just my grandfather


I take your goodness and forgiveness with me.                             

Like a token                            

That I can never turn in           But break in pieces                  

And give away


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