Perhaps

 

Did I do the right thing

by stopping to visit?

To pay my respects

  to his mother?

 

Or should I have stayed

  away from her house?

My presence, perhaps,

  unwanted.

 

Perhaps I was seeking

  solace or grace.

Contrition, perhaps,

  was way out of place.

 

The quiet blank stare,

  no pain in her face.

Perhaps it was stoic

  retraction.

 

Perhaps there were meds

on board, somewhere.

 

Her quiet and stoic,

undaunted straight face

turned my contrition

  to utter disgrace.

 

Perhaps when I left

the poor woman cried.

God knows, I felt sorry;

how hard I had tried.

 

Perhaps my contrition

was way out of place.

 

I was still living;

her son had now died.

 

And I was there 

  when it happened,

 

Lord knows that I tried.

I can still hear her crying,

  crying inside.

 

Perhaps she was seeking

the answers to why –

  Why me?    Why him?

Why did he have to die?

 

Perhaps I was too close;

I shouldn’t have come.

Perhaps, she was asking

why he was the one.

 

Perhaps, she was thinking

  that he and not me;

and if she looked harder,

perhaps she would see

  not me, but him,

instead of just me.

 

Perhaps….Perhaps….Perhaps….

 

 

 

©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

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