I heard your grave is bare
my head is hung in shame,
I know, I’m not to blame,
but I was never there,
afraid of mourning wear,
or marble in your name.

As much as I would love
to share a simple tear,
I never faced the fear,
of mother’s eyes, above.
A push, a trip, a shove
was all I need from here

To send me on my way,
to write another day.