a robin alights

Greetings, digital friends!

My mother passed away one year ago today.

For months after she died, I was numb. Did not cry. Did not hurt. Nothing. It felt like something was wrong with me. Something broken in me.

And then, one rainy day, I startled from my work to see a robin at the window screen… staring at me. I walked over to shoo it away, but it held its ground, and continued staring.

This occurred every day for almost a week. Some days several times. Us staring at each other.

I felt a profound (perhaps spiritual) connection to my mother from the interaction with this bird. She loved robins. And this poem was the result of that connection.

Not going to lie… this was no great healing moment in the sense of opening some fairy tale floodgate of feelings. It was not… nor has it been even one year later. Still awaiting that catharsis.

But it was, in those moments, something deeply special… and beautiful.

Please let me know your thoughts and reactions to this poem in the Comments section below.

-PS Conway ☘️ ☘️ ☘️

☘️ ☘️ ☘️ ☘️ ☘️

a robin alights

the falling rain outside the windowpane

reflects the poet’s mien, all gloom and gray,

a heart ground to dust then scattered to wind

the enormity of loss, can’t begin

to articulate with words such sorrow,

the gray of today, the black of tomorrow,

a mother lost too soon, e’en the Muses

weep and grow mute, mottled thought confuses

the poet who feels so alone in the rain.

felt first, then seen, a robin alights on

the window screen, peeking and pecking, dawn

reflecting from her winsome crimson breast,

staring fulsome at the sour poet lest

her intent be misconstrued, jet black eyes

mesmerize the saturnist, cannot disguise

the love of a mother for her lost child

the tender eyes of a love so beguiled

helps the poet feel less alone in the rain.


  1. Beautiful, I lost my Mother in 2016, one week after my husband of 44 years passed…I feel your reckoning with loss…it has not stopped for me..thank you for sharing your journey.

  2. My mother died three years ago and I also was less emotional than I expected. Being executrix forced me to deal with everything rather than grieve. As you say, it the little things that hit you. For me, it’s mostly gardens and piano music that hits hard. She was an avid gardener and pianist. Grief often shows up where we least expect it

    1. Thanks for sharing. Naomi. I think what I’ve learned through this grief process over the last year is to not beat yourself up over how you outwardly grieve… or don’t. Giving myself (and you) a big hug, my friend. Cheers ❤️‍🩹🍷🙏🏻🌹🕯

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