Drafts

This blog is full of drafts;

half-formed ideas, memories,

all trying to explain to myself,

how any of this makes sense.

I don’t have the words to this,

for this unexpected life;

the mystery that brought you,

and the mystery that took you from me.

How your great-grandma walked

for miles, mourning her son,

and now I do the same.

How everything she did after he died,

was touched with her sadness,

and the tired grace of a woman

worn out by sorrow.

As everything I do now is

touched with my sadness,

and the tired grace of a woman

who fought hard for you,

who somehow believes you know

and forgive her for her frailty.