"The Missing" Inspired by The Gravity of Missing Things:

The Missing

A plane with 155 people –

including my mother and best friend –

has been declared missing.

As if 155 lives are the equivalent

of the cat

whose picture has been hanging on a telephone pole

for the past three years.

Keys get lost,

homework assignments go missing,

hours of the day disappear.

The absence of a loved one

can’t be described in those words.

The feeling of losing them

all over again

when I wake up and remember

she hasn’t been home yet

when I pause mid-text and remember

she isn’t responding

when I try to remember her laugh

and can’t.

If my mother is missing,

then so are all the memories

we would have made together,

all the pictures

she would have been in,

all the hugs

I would have given her.

But to say

I miss the missing

doesn’t explain it at all.