Is It Ever Enough


Is it ever enough to let go,

once all that is needed

is finally done and put away?

The final spade of earth replaced,

tamped down.

The last hint of smirk

softly brushed from the

face of her grave.


Is it ever enough

to serve coffee,

quietly accepting the

“Sorry for your loss”

too many times

and words of a better place

you know does not exist?


I slip up to her room,

empty of all but light

that slides beneath eaves

late in the day.

The song of a wren

at the sill.

Shucking my old suit,

I lower my body and heart

to the cold floor

to think about Mother,

then wonder how the tender skin of

fruit withstands the crush of heaven.

Is it ever enough?

At times I wake in the night

thinking of peaches,

ripe and ready to eat

and I know that it is.


Will Brule


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