I live within myself
The shovel in her hands
place splinters neatly underneath her calluses.
She pauses briefly to wipe her bangs
from her sweat covered forehead.
She releases a held breath;
a breath of self-pity and an intake of guilt.
Her eyes wander briefly,
but settle back down to the earth below her feet.
The earth that is slowly ebbing away
from the hole she is digging.
My mother is digging my grave.
I watch from my bedroom window
out to the large backyard;
Wishing we had neighbors
to notice her laborious work.
Hating living in the country;
where what goes on behind closed doors
And people arenít close enough to stare
And my mother is digging my grave;
And all I can do is watch.
I search my eyes along the ground
where I will lay beside my sisters.
She buried them some time before.
And I miss them.
And I miss my mother.
She never comes in the house anymore.
She has a task to care for.
My mother is busy
Digging my grave.
And all I can do is watch her.