at the end of a long walk
we come upon a split
in the path.
i know these woods like i know the contours of my son’s face.
i should not be afraid to let
him run ahead,
i know this.
but he shares my brother’s name, and i cannot see beyond the trees today.
i have lost so many things;
misplaced so much,
that my hand will not let go of his.
— let me hold your hand a little bit longer.
© Liezel Graham 2019.
I wrote this poem after a walk in one of our favourite woods this morning.
Today, is nine days without my brother and this afternoon, in a phone call back home, I listened to my Mom’s heartache at trying to find her way around a new normal without her son.
Learning to let go is a hard thing.
Photograph by Lisa Fotios.