Losing Sofia
A poem by Marlena Eva

Losing Sofia

When you died the sky lowered on me and so I ended up fighting
with God. He should not have taken you so early but you insisted
on leaving. You insisted on letting go.

I didn’t attend your funeral. I was stranded in another country by
grief that was taking over my body. Are you mad for not coming
to see you for one last time? Should I have pretended your death
was a fluke so I didn’t fall prey to my bed, to the habit of
not doing anything but think of you?

You would have liked to feed me one last time, Grandma.
I’d have enjoyed your homemade bread, the polenta with butter
and cheese, or the bean soup you were so proud of making
when you were alive.

That’s OK. I’ll cook those meals for myself to remember you.
I’ll knead the dough and stir in a pot of cornmeal and water.
I will think of the songs you sang to me as a child, the poems
you whispered to me as I was falling asleep next to you.

Your feet were cold. I never asked you why are they cold
I didn’t want to make you feel embarrassed.

About the Author:

Marlena Eva is a freelance writer and poet from Romania. Her poetry has been featured in Avatar Review, Rock and Sling, Vraeyda Media and is upcoming in The Metaworker. Find her on Twitter @MarlenaEeva, and on Medium, where she writes about mental health and psychology topics.

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