Saturday, September 12, 2015


I heard a wail that went straight to my marrow
and I knew at once my son was dead.

A strange quiet descended as I put down my life and
started to run.

It took a long time to get there, that ugly backyard,
and I remembered the things we did, he and I.

And now here he was, face down in the water
and lifeless.

As am I.

Credit: the first words of this poem ("I heard a wail that went straight to my marrow") are not mine. I read them in a news report of a mother's reaction to her child injuring himself. Its a fantastic line and I just had to use it. I just wish I'd made a note of her name so I could credit her properly.