WAITING

April 12^th will remain

in my memory

with horrid imagination

to see the blind car

feeling only

the crushing metal and rock hard street

the warmth trickling down your body

and numbing your senses.

Three months gone, but

time and memory are still distant flickers

on your dark horizon

and that wall separating you from me

is made of tubes and twisted steel

that only a daughter’s tears

can hope to penetrate.

I wait here among flowers and monitors

writing a poem

you can’t see or hear

seeking hope in the hopeless, life in the lifeless

and holding onto the love

that only a mother and daughter can share.