Grief

by Storykeeper of Fae
originally published at 05:43PM on Thursday, October 11, 2007

She walks ever steadily onward, onward as I did, to the tree.

She kneels, her hands together in prayer, before the tree.

And I, watching upon her, smile down.

“Mom,” I say, but my voice is lost among the branches, scattered on the wind. Still she hears. Still she understands.

“Heather!” She cries out, tears streaming down her face. “I miss you!”

I would cry if angels could. Instead I sang to my mother a lullaby. Composed of notes of love and joy and all that is the Divine, my song rained down upon her head.

Rained like the leaves had on my tired body, my worn shell.

But it is not her time. She has much left to do, so much left to say.

So I blow a kiss and the wind tells her it is time to go.

Prequels

Sequels

Comments

  • from [pens&feathers]:

    Beautiful!

  • from Mikomi:

    Lovely. Beautiful last line.
    The only suggestion I could give is watching how often you use ‘She’ as a sentence starter. I’ve always used this as a rule of thumb: never start two succeeding sentences with the same word!

  • from The Wait Child:

    This is lovely – some really beautiful sentences. Good job.

  • from flute faerie:

    Oooh, this is nice. I think it’s really beautiful.