Postcard Pam Goes Large!

The Weeping

Weep the weepings of a mother bereaved. Beat your chest in your semi-detached cemetery and roar with the injustice. I have lost my child. 

Not so very long ago he left my belly and I discovered myself tethered to him in a bond of unbreakable, unshakeable, unsinkable devotion.  RRROOOOOAAAARRRR! And again RRROOOAAARRR . How dare the universe wrench me from him so unwillingly. I would rather lose my eyes than my boy. My boy. My boy. Hear my pain! It is monstrous.

 I pull my hair from my head: it will not bring him back but it needs to be done. This chasm will never heal over, never be crossed. This torture wants to vomit from my lips , pour from my ears; belly and womb all spewing forth my rage at this terrible tearing asunder of mother and child. 

I cannot be consoled, I do not wish to be consoled. How many boulders of destruction can my blazing fists hurtle into the world? I wish a plague on all your sons, your daughters. I wish them to wear black and drown in the devastation that consumes me. There is no light, there are no smiles, there is only a ragged, putrid seeping edge where my son has been torn from me. All else is screaming night. I want you to shrivel at the feet of my loss for this is a pain than needs company. This is a torment that would outdo Hell. I will ride the back of the memory of my son and it will claw and buck but I will not let him go. I will not have that nothingness!

 I will attach myself like a koala to the bark of the eucalyptus tree, shrieking with defiance and fury until the very ground quakes and dams divide and clouds ignite and God cracks his whip and still I will cling to my disappearing boy. He will not go without me, I will not let him leave me behind. He will not leave…me. He will not leave me. He will …not leave.

Ask me for nothing, I don’t have it to give. Tell me nothing, there is nothing but him. Offer me nothing or offer me him.   

No?

Then you are worth less than nothing to me.  Not even that.

Lesley Gibson