Haiga

img_20200301_151305 She is not one to say it often. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe she doesn’t know how, never learned how. Maybe she’s just not good at it.

My mom has been on her own, for the most part since she was thirteen. Her mom died one morning as she was readying her daughters for school.
I’m thinking since then, she has had issues with god / creator for letting such a catastrope befall her and her younger sister.

Some things trickle down, whether it was meant to or not.

I am no good at love. Most times leave me feeling like a lunatic, if not acting like one.

But, I keep an open heart. Even so, “I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended.” I guess in a cock-eyed sorta of way, I believe in love.

Pat R

3/17/20

Over at dVerse Poets Pub the prompt is to write prose (keeping it tight at no more than 144 words) and to include the line below:-
“I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended.”

https://dversepoets.com/2020/03/16/prosery-surprised-or-not/

Conversations

Posted on February 17, 2020 by jazzytower

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She came to visit on a peaceful saturday evening. Meandering conversations about everyday things, morphed into events of childhood and upbringing.

The traumas and dramas, the love and conflicts. Families and their decisions made out of love, that is truly misunderstood by the young minds they were meant to shield.

Then came reflections on this life changing sorrow. There are moments caught between heart-beats, that goes the way of time. There is no changing it. There is no revisiting it And its one true quality is that it is everlasting.

This was one of those moments. After the revelation it just hung in the air.

a mother’s grief –
in remembrance
through decades, she kept
the last T-shirt he wore,
bullet hole intact

Pat R

2/16/20

For dVerse Poets Pub where Kim is hosting and the phrase to be incorporated in the response is
” There are moments caught between heart-beats”