Morning misted over
like smokers filling emptied space,
my thoughts push through the fog
to another grayed day.

The snow was softly falling
as we made our seasonal journey home,
our laughter turning silent in seconds

a tragic game, bumper cars on ice

then the low sustained hum of death,
angel requiem for a family
divided in half.

It was so long ago
ambulances, hospitals,
the funeral that followed,
nights spent silently crying
over sons whose sweet bodies
I could no longer cradle,
the husband who never understood
the beat to my drum

once we walked the same road
with different destinations
now the road is mine alone.

Past memories
like cobwebs spun in the recesses of my mind
are shaken loose.

Days spent picking blackberries,
gathering scotch bonnets and starfish along the Outer Banks,
fruits of my motherhood now
exploring worlds far brighter
than seashore and woods.

I have tasted the bitter and the sweet.
I do not despair this bittersweet reality.