Learning To Move On

by | Feb 23, 2013 | Uncategorized | 0 comments

graveyardsnow

The frosty air is icy cold against my skin; it must be time for winter once again. I walk down a familiar street. I have my scarf wrapped around my neck and earmuffs protecting my ears from the howling wind. I try and look ahead but the pressure of the wind is gushing against my face. The air smells fresh, I can smell damp. It must have rained earlier that day, I thought. I can still taste the hot chocolate I had moments before and I still feel its warmth. The wind intertwines with the branches of the nearby trees.

I’ve been walking for a while now and the air appears to be getting colder. I look up at the pale white sky, no patches of blue in sight. A few minutes later I feel a snowflake land on my cheek, the snow begins to fall softly at first. I don’t have far to go now before I reach the place I have been longing to visit. I couldn’t face this day a year ago, still battled with grief I refused to go there.

Minutes later the snow emerged from the sky. The white flakes fall like shooting stars. I was almost there. I walked past an old Victorian styled house; I could smell a burning coal fire. I didn’t like this smell. It reminded me of a burning bonfire on a crisp November’s night not so long ago. The smoke rose out of the chimney and it filled my lungs with the dirty soot, I coughed violently. I only had a few more yards to go and I could feel the pit of my stomach twisting into knots of anticipation. I stood at the iron gates. I had come all of this way, I had to do it now. I tumbled across the uneven ground and there it was.

My mother’s grave stone. I could taste sick in my mouth, it hadn’t occurred to me it would be this hard. My throat was dry. I looked at the ancient stone walls surrounding the church. They reminded me of another place. I knelt down, holding back the tears. The pain of guilt overwhelmed me. My heart sank like a bottomless pit as I began to relive the memories of my mother and me. I miss her. I want to be with her right now. I am finally here to say goodbye, finally facing the demons of the past year. I choked back the tears. “Hello mum” I croaked.

Written by Emma-Jane Barlow

 Emma-Jane Barlow is a 30 year-old author, poet, writer and autism advocate from the UK. She has been writing poetry since the age of seven and finds comfort in writing about her life experiences. She has two published books and is currently working on a third.

You May Also Like:

Dear Poet, Welcome to the 21st Century…

Photo by bongkarn thanyakij on Pexels.com A few months ago, I was pondering the idea of posting my poetry online. For me, poetry has always been a solitary activity. I would scribble rhymes and metaphors onto paper, close my notebook and I would never read it again,...

5 C’s To Managing My Anxiety

For the last decade, I have been suffering with crippling anxiety. As I made the transition from my teens to my twenties, my anxiety continued to grow and I started to feel like I was no longer in control of my thoughts, emotions, actions or behaviour. This year, it...

The Truth About Living With Mental Illness.

For a long time I used this blog as a platform to write about my life. It was a place of freedom. It was a space where I could write down the uncensored and vulnerable musings of my experiences, to share a little piece of my world with others. Then, last year, I had...

0 Comments

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *