that's what's left of us
an angel got its wings last fall
spring don’t ask, it just shows up
in the buds on the trees —
in vanilla ice cream
n bein called trailer trash pretty.
in “one days” n “maybes,”
in the rain —
it remembers everything.
rosary beads
n a taste of summer heat.
hope —
your birthday,
bitter sweet.
we don’t celebrate you no more,
but we still take
extra pauses
between our breaths.
tiny puffs,
like that’s where the grief sits.
it don't ask either,
just does what it wants.
n every summer we’re sad
cuz an angel got its wings last fall.
spread em wide n never looked back,
left us all behind.
didn’t care none for a goodbye,
see em in the sun sometimes.
just old memories floatin,
collectin dust.
hard to believe
that’s what’s left
of us.
i still pray like my grandma did.
breath didn’t come easy for her, so we’d take extra pauses in our prayers thinking it was enough. it never was.
hail mary..
..full of grace..
..the lord is with thee..
and then i realize my lungs are healthy.
i don’t have to anymore.
my sister told me sometimes she feels bad for not praying with her more. it eats her up. eats me too.
and maybe thats why i do it.
because it feels like she’s still here, sitting next to me, teaching me how to count the beads on my rosary. showing me the difference between thee’s and thou’s, what it’s like to use the gifts God gave me.
like she never left in the first place.
it's something i inherited from her, that extra pause. the extra breaths between my prayers. it somehow makes them mean more.
humans absorb. we collect things — dialect, the phrases people we love say. the way they fold their towels and wash their hands. memories,
the way they pray.
it’s our nature.
it’s what’s left of us.
i wish i had something wittier and more convincing to say
but every time i write out
why you should buy me a coffee
i cringe for eons.
if something i wrote resonated with you or you’re feeling generous,
here’s my “buy me a coffee” link.
TELL ME WHAT YOU CARRY
tell me what stayed. what did this remind you of?
what’s one thing you inherited from someone who you loved? you can leave it in the comments or you can make your own post, i just want to read it. i want to talk about it like it still matters, because it does.
authors note:
this had been sitting with me for a while. i finally got around to writing it this week. it’s a part of something i’ve been building slowly — “angels are like birds.”
i’ll say more about it soon.
MORE FROM ME
shameless promo since it’s my own post —
if you liked this poem, consider checking these out:
"extra pauses
between our breaths."
As I finished reading the post, I realized this is the part that stuck to me the most. So much of grief is carried between each breath.
That's some amazing writing 👏👏👏