Poems of Pain

[Anne Smith]

The Waiting Clock ©
Written by Anne M. Smith
August 11, 2009 at 8:30am
One Day Before Cancer Took My Mother's Life

Big white round face
Black hands and bold digits
This is the waiting clock
With every loud gasp I look at it
To mark the final time
When we’ll lose her

The seconds are agony: a blessing a curse
For they crawl yet give way to more time on the earth
Each minute blends into the next
With each rise and fall of her chest

But the countless hours that have come and gone
Have given birth to poem, to message, to song
The hours have allowed family and friends to make peace
As many have traveled from the North, South, West and East

Soft whispers, loud laughter, sad tears fill the air
Spoken words of love melodically float to her ear
We all believe she hears what we’ve said
To form the last chapter of the book she has read

Some authors write a book in a short period of time
But some like her require eighty-two years to refine
The waiting clock reminds us of its intent
It tells us to not waste time but wisely be spent

Not on grudges
flavored with bitterness
seasoned with resentment
marinated in hatred
pounded with manipulations

But on unconditional love
full of understanding
overflowing in grace
abounding in forgiveness
without any stipulations

Time is ticking...

Please do not copy or reproduce original poetry without written consent from the poet.

[Anne Smith]

Thank you AJ. I was one of many that I wrote in the long hours preceding my mom's passing. It was awesome to see you too. I can't wait to get to the end of your book. Congratulations!

[A.J. Ali]

Anne, this poem is brilliant and overflowing with love. It was so good to see you on Monday and I hope we get to spend more time with you before we leave town.

[Jane Ali]

This is awesome, thank you so much for sharing this poem. It shows me your heart and what you were feeling. I love you girl!