At Devil's Tower

[favoritebean]

It was the summer of eighty-five,
Aged ten, I went on a six-hour drive,
To David’s- three hundred miles away,
A week long camp near Devil’s Tower.

It was a rite of passage you see,
An event I anticipated with glee,
But without you, I did not go so happily,
As you wasted away on your deathbed.

Comments

[i_17bingo]

This does a really good job of capturing the fugue state you were probably in that summer. I'm sorry for your losses.

[adoptedwriter]

Beautifully expressed! So sorry for all your losses! Hugs...

[halfshellvenus]

When we are losing someone, or have already lost them, nothing else seems important. It hardly even registers compared to the enormity of the loss of someone we so love-- and how could those ordinary things just march along in the midst of such devastation?

Ten is much too soon to lose a parent, and this poem clearly shows how terribly hard this was for you. I'm sorry you went through it then, and sorry you're dealing with so much of it again right now.

[rayaso]

I am sorry for all the pain you have suffered, especially for the loss of your mother, and I see how it could affect a person's belief in God. You expressed it all so well here.

[yamyam_kat]

I liked your piece.