Tell me it doesn’t hurt anymore, Mother. Reach out from where you are. I’m still here, on Earth, haunted by the fear that there were moments when I didn’t love you enough. Or worse, that you didn’t know I did. Tell me you knew, and that you know now. Give me a sign that says I did it right in the end, and that it’s so beautiful where you are, you forgot the taste of the bitter medicine. Tell me it was worth it, Mother. Tell me the pain and terrible harshness delivered you to peace and softness so vast you have to close your eyes to take it all in. Tell me you like it there, Mother. That it’s better for you. Tell me I gave you a great gift when I let you go. Touch the light in the sky and tell me it made you whole. That the hole in my heart from releasing you is a sign I set you free. Reach out from where you are, beyond the realms of blood and bones and suffering. Tell me you are happy and peaceful and I will be grateful for the ache that keeps the memory of you alive inside of me until I can dance with you again in the light. © 2023, Sheya Forest
Tell Me You Are Free
Acceptance, Adversity, Cosmos, Cycles, death, Endings, freeverse, Grief and Loss, Love, New Beginnings, Otherworld, Poetry, Prayers
daughter, death, grief, Grief and Loss, loss, Love, mother, poem, poetry, Relationships
I wrote my first story when I was a wee girl of three, followed by my first poem when I was eight. I’ve been writing ever since as a way to cope with life. This practice evolved with learning in both structured settings and through the practice, itself. In my own healing crisis, I found a process I affectionately refer to as Poetic Alchemy. Now on the journey of getting my life back, I do this not only for myself but for you.