Feature Poem: Widow

By Barbara Castle Hanson
Cape Canaveral Branch (Florida)

 

You are no longer suffering,

“in a better place.”

I’m glad for that.

But that place is not

with me anymore.

You have disappeared,

moved on.

 

My existence has been reduced

to an aching hole

somewhere in my chest,

tears carving troughs

down my cheeks,

burning knot in my throat.

 

There’s an empty chair in our den

where we watched movies together,

sad clothes hanging in your closet.

 

Gone are the conversations

about anything, everything,

no jacket on the chair back

in our kitchen.

 

No happy sightings

of you carefully, lovingly

winding the grandfather clock

we gave each other

on our 25th anniversary.

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