There are 155 articles on this title. You are reading the article ranked and rated #20 by Helium's members.
Seventy-three, unable
To talk, to walk
Understand a son, a man
Cradling her naked body
On his lap, in a shower
Cleansing old folds
Of skin with soft
Soapy touches, rinsing her
With his tears.
Seventy-three, refusing
To eat, to live
Would God understand
Will doctors agree
She wants to go
We've always done
What mother says.
Seventy-three, no more
Breath, no more beat
Daughter-in-law bathes
Frail, still warm body
That last time
While grandchildren run
In and out
Reaching, patting
Still warm remains.
Learn more about this author, Kathleen Richardson.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:
Dear Mommy,
I'm starting school today!
I wish you weren't so far away.
What if nobody likes me there?
What if the teacher doesn't
Others say that you are gone,
But your still here with me,
sweet mom.
I brush my childrens hair,
the way you taught me too.
My Mommy is upset I can tell
She lost her Daddy, he wasn't well
He could not wait for me to be born
Only three months to
THAT LAST AUGUST DAY
I see his face at least once a day.
That infectious grin above the summer grey suit,
The jaunty walk out
I stand here, looking down upon that stone.
The engraved name of someone ever so dear stands out, piercing my weeping heart.
View All Articles on:
Poetry: Death of a parent
Add your voice
Know something about Poetry: Death of a parent?
We want to hear your view.
Write now!
Featured Partner
Northwoods Wildlife Center has partnered with Helium, giving you the chance to write for a cause. Browse Northwo...more
hide