Talking To The Dead

I stared like a statue into my mother’s eyes

There was only one question in my mind: “Why?”

Why did you bear me when you knew you were going to die young?

Your death broke me and, still, the worst was yet to come.

I have spent the whole of my life in the deep end

Treading and trying desperately not to drown

I would make progress and think I was on the mend

Only to loose my footing and fall back down.

“Why?!” I wanted to scream in anger

“Why would you subject your child to that?

You wouldn’t expose me to immediate danger,

Well, guess what? This isn’t so different from that!”

I wasn’t sure what I expected to hear…answers?

Probably not.

The dead keep their secrets dear, a virtually unravel-able knot.

You gave me a taste of love, but only a draught.