Poetry In Memory Of Michael Miller
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My Mom Is A Survivor
by Kaye Des'Ormeaux
My Mom is a survivor, or so I heard it said.
But I hear her crying at night when all others are in bed.
I watch her lay awake at night and go to hold her hand.
She doesn't know I'm with her to help her to understand.
But like the sands on the beach that never wash away...
I watch my surviving mom, who thinks of me each day.
She wears a smile for others...a smile of disguise.
But through Heaven's door I see tears flowing from her eyes.
My mom tries to cope with death to keep my memory alive.
But anyone who knows her it is her way to survive.
As I watch my surviving mom...through heaven's open door.
I try to tell her that the angels protect me forever more.
But I know that doesn't help her or ease the burden she bears.
So if you get the chance, go visit her...And show her that your care.
For no matter what she says...no matter what she feels
My surviving mom has a broken heart that time won't ever heal~!
(My Heart Was Broken The Night My Son Was Killed...And It Will Never Will Mend Back Together)
(Michael's Mom)
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