CW: Death
Our family was called in a week early
They told us he
Wouldn't last the night and to
Get ourselves prepared.
I said my goodbyes that day and
I left a little bit of my soul behind in
That small room
On the downstairs floor of
My grandmother's house.
I vacuum that room in
The summer.
It doesn't feel empty.
He laid there on a cot
A simple blanket;
A pallet
Next to the bed and
The armoire.
I took a nap at 2 pm
And when I woke up
I awoke more refreshed than
I had in a long,
Long time.
My grandfather
Did not wake at all.
My mother tells me
He went out humming
Those little tunes that my
Grandmother used to sing in
Church.
I like to think that he is at peace
But that non-empty room
Says otherwise.
YOU ARE READING
"untitled" - A life in poems
PoetryI refuse to let my family read this, but hey, why not all of you? . . . I've been wanting to post this for a while. This was my English final, in which I wrote 18 poems detailing 18 important points in my (then 18) years of life. Most of these are...
