A piece of paper

At our birth

Saves us space

Upon this Earth.

A note on paper

In our death

Decrees our absence,

A halting breath.

This bit of paper

Held in my hand

Sinks emotion,

Sifts through time’s sand.

A sheet of paper

When we grieve,

A whisper thin wafer

As we bereave.

A crumpled paper

Brings hot tears

Among these laughing

Happy years.

A snatch of paper

Held in the hand

Glares black and white

It cannot stand!

Your legal paper

I grasp in awe

My mouth is dumb

My features fall.

Your patch of paper

Pains my head

The heart denies

You can’t be dead!

This clinic paper

Shows not your sum,

Your life, your smile-

Your songs unsung!

This strip of paper

Insults the whole,

Unglads my God,

Unties my soul.

Their tat of paper

Is not the love

Who nurtured me,

Who’s gone above.

Take back this paper,

Recycle, reuse.

She’s not this pulp,

She’s mom– I refuse.

---

By JB Morris- Poems, Prose, and Possibilities- mostly about life, sometimes about God, with brief interludes concerning shoe addiction.