The Epitaph

June - photo by author

22
The day you were born
September
Virgo-Libra —
The Cusp
of Beauty
tied invisibly
to Death’s Door.

Two dates
inextricably
woven into every
holiday, birthday,
calendar day —
of a mother’s life
once her child dies.

13
The day you died
March
An unimaginable day
in mother’s mind —
One built from
strands of sickness
amongst plans
of longevity.
An untimely
bookend to your life.

Have you ever known
two months,
six months apart,
to parallel one another?
Inscribed by the anguish,
were the days,
that once promised
you life.

Happiness
surrounding the day
you were born
permanently torched
by the day
you died.

A mother’s womb
left to ache
forever
for the cremated baby
she once
gave life.

The month you were born
may as well be
the month you died.
Interchangeable
remains of
death’s thick residue
coats mother’s eyes.

Mother says
she now understands
why the tombstone
reduces life to
two single dates —
the day
one was born
and the day
they died.

Mother mourns
in the closet
cradling a box of ashes
pondering the part of
an epitaph
meant for
the survivors —
On your stone
she would write,
“I will love you
every single day
for the rest of my life.”