The Moya View

Tag: grief

  • Mother Are You Proud of Me?

    Mother Are You Proud of Me?

    They tore your body apart.You died among walls of infusion boxes.On the television, the Pope riding by in his Pope mobile.Are you proud of mewhen I cry?Are you proud of mewhen I don’t?Peeking through the slats of the living room blinds,I discovered your body slumped in the reclining chair.Will I ever know the truth of…

  • Answered and Unanswered Prayers

    Answered and Unanswered Prayers

    Many are the mothers who cry to Godfrom the release of woe for slain sons.How mother and child, prayed innocently with pure heart, to be spared violence’s plagueBut from the high placesthe prayers that are grantedis for power, power and gloryand honor forever- and nothing more.

  • Talking Away

    Talking Away

    I use to think about grief,building loss on loss, sorrow on sorrow,into a silent groan in my bowelsof ever churning lamentsmourning for the comfort of dead faces.All the sorrow and lost infused my words. It leaked out to the white spaces betweenunwanted vowels and syllables : to the house gone, parts removed,friends lost, the broken…

  • Walking Her Bicycle Back Home, Alone

    Walking Her Bicycle Back Home, Alone

    Oh, child of mine, I’ve come back toreclaim your most precious thing from that blue ravine off the stone road.I lack the steadiness and pulse of movementto ride it home.So, I walk it back totally alone now,remembering those first unsteady lessonsuntil you found the perfect balance to peddle this silver dreambeyond my steady support.I will…

  • At Sunset

    At Sunset

    Your death must mean just enough not to curse the day you were born,to stand by the water’s edgeand not want to swim with stonesuntil the first dark wave takesme under in a fetal pose,sinks me down in the last breath,the clear waters almost your ghostpushing me back, allowingme to walk away.Of course, I will…

  • The Cursing Stones

    The Cursing Stones

    Ariana, adopted the old Greek ways, when Nikos died diving for sponges. She encased her curses into two lead stones: smuggling one into his coffin, dropping the other into Naxos deepest well. She made sure Nikos soul would carry her curse to the underworld before it ascended to heaven, or activated fully on the river…

  • Pieta


    Perfection can only be seen in the descent, the glow of spotlights colliding to true whiteness, the realization that grief touches the ground.   Mary, they say, you never experienced birth pains, but the linen folded eternally beneath your son shows that his final blessing transferred all  to you.   Your tears wash his feet,…

  • Soft Body Memories of Our Grief

    We exist in unkeepable bodies   and in the bending over we decompose   for we are are but the memory of grief   that soft bodies leave when they die.

  • Underwater


    I am Jonah in the belly of Leviathan living only when the beast surfaces, exchanging liquid grief, heavy air for the unwanted gasps of new life.   I pray out of this belly for gills and only the ocean hears my voice, It deepens and encompasses me, its waves billowing me in absolution.   The…

  • Diary of Your Last Breath

    Diary of Your Last Breath

    December 3, 2019 She was displayed before me with her eyes closed and mouth agape, leaving me to wonder whether she died in terror or awe.   Was her last breath the honest gurgle I’ve been seeing for the last few days, that I took comfort in hearing restart every time I called her name…

  • Grief Is Everything and All

    Grief Is Everything and All

    My grief is stillborn, not consoled by the hope of replacement of another good little boy or girl with brown paws and a gentle lick, another Anne or Tom with eyes that cry of heaven and a bright mind that can write lines of cerulean clarity or calculate pi to the twentieth decimal, a wife…