A Mother's Grief Poem by Angela Wybrow

That wretched war is now over and done,
But, as a mother, I'm now minus a son;
As he marched off to war, I can recall the pride,
But, since hearing the news, I've sat here and cried.

In the kitchen, at the table, there's an empty place;
In the parlour, on the wall, hangs his handsome face.
Empty chair, empty room, empty space:
No one on Earth can ever take his place.

Every morning, I struggle out of bed,
Wishing that it was me who'd died instead;
Each new day brings suffering and heartfelt sorrow,
Making me wonder how I'll ever face each tomorrow.

The days, the weeks, the months, the years,
Will never heal these salt-laden tears;
Each day, for Jimmy, I sit and grieve:
There are days when it feels so hard to breathe.

I want to hear and to say his name,
And never extinguish his bright, burning flame;
A word, a gesture, a particular sound
Can suddenly cause memories to course around.

Never again, will he walk through our door,
Due to that vile and vicious, evil war;
In the days which have followed - the aftermath,
I don't feel I can smile, let alone laugh.

The pain and guilt of losing my child,
Is breaking my heart and driving me wild;
I can tell you that, from the point of a mother,
The loss of a child is a loss like no other.

Within my heart, there's now a huge hole,
But I still love my son with my heart and my soul;
Eventhough we are no longer together,
My love for Jimmy will live on forever.