28 Jun 2016

Just as we begin to go they begin to arrive – Sharon Olds

Something about the world after a heavy rain fall;

the kind that falls urgently as if to extinguish a fiery morning,

the kind that flows like severe black ink in darkened lanes.

I let the sky have her terrible tantrum before I opened the door,

having said her piece and hysterical tears, she seems to rest

I walked, treading softly on the tired bending blades of grass, soaked in tragedy

while the old trodden earth lets loose her familiar (after rain) smell of gratitude

“everything must calm down now, all must retire”

I brush her long black hair, last chore of the day

“Mummy! Do you think I look like you?”

I look up from my task and find my face in her mirror, her thick glossy hair

like jet black ink, and mine slowly turning grey.

Why is it that they begin to come just as we are begin to go?