All the Policies: a Corrie Poem

I know all about the policies:
the i's to dot, and cross the t's.
I remember well the call from finance about the bill for the
ambulance.
I was not about to pay
in the aftermath
of my daughter's death
when she died on that ambulance.
It's enough I keep myself alive
when all I've wished is to
give up and die.

But still here I am, and am supposed to be 
Not by my wish, but some policy. It's not what I signed up for,
nor did I wish, but life doesn't bundle gifts. I went on, as they say, learned to breathe and work through a day.

As time goes on, I 
pick up more, and sign up for this and that before
they realize I'm still
broken and trying to rebuild. But somehow 
I must go 
forward still knowing
my baby is not growing. I'm okay if people go because I've learned to turn my back and shut the door before I hear someone else banging back. Better to leave than to hear someone say, "Sorry" and "Goodbye." It's not worth the time or cry. It's enough to spend  time and breathe to keep yourself alive.

My son once said, "You're the Queen of shutting people out." There are some truths I won't deny because that's what it takes to stay alive. I cannot keep nor care with the comings and goings of those whose roots are bare.  It's enough I dig into the ground, and break the dirt before days darken and the frost arrives. Take out the plants that are not alive.

Someone says, "I'm sorry, but it's policy." Go, and take your leave because it is not for me to say, "stay" or "go" when you come this way. I'm trying to keep up with the comings and goings, all the meetings, so they never see my heart retreating to the darkest space where I wish to tuck myself away. I try to remember deadlines, when this is due, sign my name, dot the i's and cross the t's. You're now this, and you earn a title. It comes with new responsibilities.
It comes with new policies.

I just needed to plant the mums before the frost comes to me. I needed to tell my daughter that I tucked the lillies into bed. I trimmed the stalks, so that in the spring they will grow tall and green.

If you knew what I'd heard today, and how I had to listen and soothe others through their loss, you'd know why I had to break the ground. Plant the mums, and make a plan for where I'll put a tulip bed. I cannot control life  or death anymore than I could what happened in the ambulance.

But I know when I leave this Earth, those policies will be long ago, forgotten ash. I know I'll see her face, and simply say, "Did you see your mums and tulips grow?" Then all that was frost will melt away.