✨ by Mercedes Hazard | Shop | Tumblr | Instagram
Questions I’ll Never Ask My MotherWhen your parents died could you hear it?
When the plane crashed into the very ocean
you played mermaids in with your sisters,
when the flames engulfed the only caretakers
you knew, did you feel your own flesh
disintegrate in unison with theirs?
Did you feel a snap? If so, what effect
did it have on your child sized bones?
Have they grown a little faster ever since?
Did it bother you that the same water
you had waded through just weeks before
was now filling the lungs of your mother;
suffocating the woman you called home?
I read that your parents’ remains were found
intertwined in the wreckage. Your father
in his last moments used his own body
as a shield in a fruitless attempt to save
your mother from their shared fate.
Do you find this comforting or devastating?
Aunt Gail told me that your ring with
the purple stone had to be peeled off
of your mothers limp, unfeeling fingers.
Does it ever get heavy on your hand?
Have you grown accustomed to the sting?
For how long after did you wake screaming?
For how long after did you search
for them in every unholy place?
A few years ago your parents’ death
became a plot line on a television show.
What was it like to have your pain packaged
and sold for profit? Where did you bury
your grief? What did you do when it came
back up in the spring? When you cry
on Christmas is it because you’re remembering?
When you look at me and see her face
does it hurt or do I help?
When your parents died could you hear it?
Have you ever stopped hearing it since?