Grief is a motherless child

Grief is a motherless child

She wanders around
face molded into
formidable frown lines
Etched into young skin
Pressing out a smile
like a hot comb on clean
kinky hair coated in Dixie Peach

She wanders in her pretty pinafore
and shiny Mary Janes and looks
like any other shortbread
sweet little girl
but she carries the aftertaste
of a bitter pill
dissolved in her mouth

She is the silent tear
streaming down a wet face
She is the muffled sob
caught in a pillow's grasp
She is the inconsolable ache
buried in a stomach's pit
She is the broken heart
limping its lub-dub

No one will turn the rope
so that she may jump
No one will pat-a-cake
or Miss Mary Mack
though her hands are
wide open and held high
Waiting for a touch

No porch light turned on
To call her home
No warm bed
with frilly sheets,
teddy bears
baby dolls
and bedtime stories

Just a lonely road
where she wanders around
in her pinafore
and pretty little Mary Janes
caked with graveyard mud
So, call her Grief,
for she is just
another motherless child

Reverendsister's Ink
© April 4, 2013