Holding On


You are as fond of grief as of your child.


Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?

King John III.iv, William Shakespeare


I love the thought of ghosts and lingering souls

Spirits present, dark shadows with intent

I don’t fear eerie noises or the cold

Air shivering in our ancient vents.

And as I want my living children to

 Fulfil their full potential so I wish

For silent Iris to turn poltergiest

Possess my house and lightbulb filaments

Or leave me gothic portents where she can

Prevent calamity or incident.

More than only ash at least, more than

Dust and tears for my lost innocent.

I still hold on despite advice and proof,

Can one let go of nothing? Empty air,

Would she drift off to haunt another womb

If I moved on and left her memory there?

I’m ever fondly constant in my grief,

It must go on, it must go on for her,

There is an odd betrayal in relief,

That loyal in my love I shall abjure. 


How do you feel about the possibility of "moving on"? Do you want to?