I wonder if Spring could've saved her

A poem from my illogically grieving mind.

Mom’s corner.

Because I wasn’t able to get an essay out on Tuesday, I decided to share this poem I started on during a walk with my dad a couple of weeks ago.

Its final form flowed to me a few days later, and after a very small amount of light edits, it’s ready to read. It finished its birth on April 7th.

It’s a bit intimate for me—a piece I’ve had inside me to communicate how those final months felt with mom—so I may be paywalling this poem by this upcoming Monday the 24th. So please, enjoy it for now. :)

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I wonder if Spring could’ve saved her

I wonder if Spring could’ve saved her.

I feel guilty when my dad and I go on walks

because months ago my mom and I were drowning.

Darkness surrounded us both,
and eventually, mom stopped reaching for anything that could buoy her.

I scrambled, heaving her weighted body toward the surface.

Toward Spring.

But only time would tell if we could make it.
If we could just swim long enough to reach the sun.

The longer days.
The brighter hours.
The delicious inhale.

But every time I looked above me, I’d just see a pinpoint of light.

And when I’d look below me, I was holding my mom.

And all she could see was the dark.

I tried distracting her from the darkness that continued to swallow her with love notes and held hands and gripping hugs.

But it didn’t work.

She told me she wouldn’t have lasted as long as she had without me.

And yet I still couldn’t save her.

Disease took her.
And the darkness that consumed her carried her down rapidly, like a cement brick tied to her feet.

And I couldn’t help her last,
until Spring

And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive the seasons for taking their time.

For withholding the only light left in my mom’s life…

Until she starved to death from her lack of it.

Because I’ll always wonder
if Spring could’ve saved her.

When nothing else,
could save her from herself.