Unearned Grief
by Claire Scott
Almost fifty years later, I think of you
the one who wasn’t
the one who couldn’t
how can I grieve a child
whose life I chose to take
I think you were a girl
you would be forty-nine this month
the month of April where the earth
is reborn and crocuses flame yellow
in late spring snow
we would take your kids
to the beach, shrieking delight
as icy waves licked our toes
build fires and make s’mores
fingers sticky sweet
we would shop for clothes
almost the same size
(OK, me a little rounder)
laughing at a too tight skirt
a too revealing shirt
a ridiculous hat
then find the perfect shoes
and each buy a pair
we would share stories and recipes
the sweet and the sorrow
the almosts and the could have beens
my old eyes wet with memories
that I don’t deserve
the one who wasn’t
the one who couldn’t
how can I grieve a child
whose life I chose to take
I think you were a girl
you would be forty-nine this month
the month of April where the earth
is reborn and crocuses flame yellow
in late spring snow
we would take your kids
to the beach, shrieking delight
as icy waves licked our toes
build fires and make s’mores
fingers sticky sweet
we would shop for clothes
almost the same size
(OK, me a little rounder)
laughing at a too tight skirt
a too revealing shirt
a ridiculous hat
then find the perfect shoes
and each buy a pair
we would share stories and recipes
the sweet and the sorrow
the almosts and the could have beens
my old eyes wet with memories
that I don’t deserve
Claire Scott is an award-winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, and Healing Muse, among others. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.