Par Avion | Fotoula Reynolds
Upon the mantle
A candle burns
Prayers are heard
Mourning visits
Pressing a letter
To her chest
The look of grief
Is not a role play
Dripping tears fall
Crumpled and wet
The paper softens
Ink running and
Words disappearing
But never forgotten
Whimpering outward
Releasing a rawness
Sorrow stinging
Primal fear erupts
Two children look on
Their mother’s heart
Breaks for her father
Papou, he is gone
Death was alive
Inside my house
Inside my mother
I was seven years old
I tried to carry her
Boulder-like hurt
My younger brother
Stares within, voiceless
Goodbye grandfather
Your daughter is an
Amazing mother
Seas will never separate us
