the robins are back,
springtime is nigh.
the sun overhead
fills the powder blue sky.
i hear their cheeping,
those chicks, very tiny.
new life, fresh and green
new eyes, bright and shiny.
springtime is coming
its scent fills the air,
i run through the streets,
sweet breeze through my hair.
the robins are back,
i hear their singing.
and on days like today
i know what spring's bringing.
at the back of my teeth
there's acid i taste.
i've fallen right in,
cement block 'round my waist.
my head swirls and bobbles,
my thoughts all a-jumble.
i run and i run
but inevitably stumble.
the robins are back,
their song mocks me so.
sun, go back in.
grass, please don't grow.
springtime, you see,
is eternally tied
to grieving, to worry
from when my girl died.
the first sun of spring
turns my body to stone.
frozen in time
and still so alone.
the robins are back,
and so is my grief.
shrouding all of my thoughts,
stealing light like a thief.
About Me
- Mary Beth
- My life on the run. Balancing family, mental and physical exercise, and all the emotional baggage accumulated throughout several decades of living.
Damn my friend, there is some heartbreaking depth here. I had no idea where you were going with this until the surprise at the end.
ReplyDeletemy head swirls and bobbles,
my thoughts all a-jumble.
i run and i run
but inevitably stumble.
This is downright beautiful writing.
I'm finding the seasons of grief to be so profound. I have underestimated them at every turn until now, as we approach the one year mark. I can feel the anticipation of March 2011, the planting of the vegetable garden, the excitement of our two year old for her little sister, the forthcoming of our second babe in utero.
Now I feel the anticipation of the death. The accident that happened on our front lawn. The pending doom which changed our lives. And still, the garden that's about to be planted.
It's complicated and rational all at the same time.
Beautiful. (Robins never left this year. It has thrown me into a tailspin of weird seasonal off-centeredness.) I appreciate the rhythm and rhyme of this piece, it grounds me. I need grounding. And something like promise.
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like running to me, there's a really strong underlying rhythm to your words. I'm sorry, it must feel as though you are being pulled into two different directions, grief and spring. Thinking of you and your Calla this season xo
ReplyDeleteSpring does this to me as well.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you Mary Beth, all the way over there with your back to front seasons.
xo
Yes, like running. That's good and helpful, Catherine W.
ReplyDeleteI feel, I feel, I feel when I read this. I wish I didn't feel so much. I'm thankful I do. Mixed up, always.
I'm glad you write, Mary Beth. Glad.
Cathy in Missouri
This is so lovely. I'm sorry you are missing your girl. I wish she was here for you to push in a stroller while running. I wonder how this summer will be for me? I wish my loss matched with a more somber season. Sending love to you.
ReplyDeleteWeirdly, I feel most conflicted about my sadness/happiness cocktail during spring even though our family train went off the tracks in August. I haven't seen a single robin in my neighborhood yet. You're welcome to come for a visit.
ReplyDeletethinking of you and your girl.