It was St. Valentine’s Day when your husband reported <br />Your disturbing disappearance, but it was days before <br />When you gently kissed your children’s cheeks <br />For the very last affectionate time. <br />Who can understand the winter sorrow of your demise? <br />The barren trees and Michigan ice <br />Slightly more than a month to your never-returning spring. <br /> <br />No one knows when they will smell the lilac scent <br />For the final time before they reach heaven’s shore, <br />Nor when the day arrives when you’re unable to walk again <br />A garden path strewn with roses or black-eyed-Susan; <br />But at the still youthful age of thirty-four, <br />You should have known many more flowery springs. <br /> <br />When a man gives a young woman a wedding ring, <br />There should be faithful promises of protection <br />That he implores himself to daily keep, <br />His own reality of happiness should be inseparable <br />From her well-being and her desire to smile. <br />The converse should never be true, <br />To hurt the one with whom you spent your youth <br />And created the children of your pride. <br /> <br />How was the man who had you by his side, <br />The man who called you wife, <br />Able to hurt you and end your life? <br />How was he able to discard parts of your body <br />In the barren winter woods patiently awaiting <br />The return of spring and the marigold air <br />That you are now forever unable to breathe <br /> <br />Some people allow themselves to become animals <br />Unworthy to grace a cage <br />When they forget the human art of empathy and compassion. <br />The universal Heart of God will weep <br />Slow lonely tears this spring.<br /><br />Uriah Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/st-valentine-s-day-lament-tara-lynn-grant-s-never-returning-spring/
