Death knocked on my door –
it was a policeman
come looking for the home of a child found unharmed
amid the wreckage of a highway crash.
I heard him say ‘grandparents’
and my mind saw Grandma long since ready for her death
and Granddad who would never cope alone.
That one word gave me just an instant
to relax amid the swirling building comprehension:
it was not my grandparents, but the child’s, whom death had taken.
The child was my first-born,
returning from her first adventure with my parents.
And in that orphaned moment there opened up a gap
that could have swallowed my existence
were it not for also knowing my beloved child lived.
I never understood the peace that followed:
was it knowing that my parents both had lived their best?
Or that some day life would show me
that the timing did make sense?
Or did it come from looking back
on all the strange events that melded up
to keep our daughter safe?
It did not keep the tears at bay
or push me through the grind of daily living,
but there was peace beyond my understanding
that came upon the grubby wings
Margie has recorded a CD of this and 17 other poems under the title When Death Comes Close. It comes with a booklet and is available from Amazon.
I shall reproduce others of Margie’s poems in the coming days.