Twenty-Five

4756213167_36996b280e_b

Twenty- five years ago, I watched strangers
lower my mother’s body into the ground.
It was raining that day.
The soil swallowed up her oak and pink satin casket.
Heavy. Cold.
Not a place for a woman whose laugh lit up rooms,
whose touch soothed even the deepest aches.
My breath and heart plummeted into the hollow earth and
I broke into pieces that scattered in the rain.
For twenty- five years I have been collecting them.

Susan Richardson

Susan Richardson

Susan Richardson is a poet living, writing and going blind in Los Angeles. She is re-emerging into the literary world after a long hiatus brought about by an RP diagnosis. She lives with an Irishman, 2 pugs and 2 cats. She crochets blankets and scarves for her family and friends. In addition to poetry, she writes a blog called, “Stories from the Edge of Blindness”.
Susan Richardson

Latest posts by Susan Richardson (see all)


%d bloggers like this: