I’m Calling You
Every moment, of the day
I’m calling you
Trying to forget that your death
is not fabricated, but true
Hoping that you come back
Only for minutes, even few
I miss you daughter,
and don’t know what to do
How can I go on living?
I have no clue.
I look at your jeans, dresses,
tops, the pink and the blue,
And the ones you haven’t worn
still in your cupboard new
I caress every item there
including each sandal and shoe.
Had you been alive, all of these
You would’ve by now outgrew.
I gaze at your belongings
They too are calling you.
Randah R. Hamadeh
Author, Summer Rays-Solace for Bereaved Parents
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