It cut through the cool, quiet afternoon

with such intense clarity

that both the dogs and I stopped in our tracks

to look in the direction from where it came.

A woman’s voice




cried out from a big house

down a small street

at the edge of town.

I knew almost instantly

it was not a cry for help

because I had rattled my own walls very recently

with similar sounds

when news of my mother’s death reached me

and I was forced to face it alone

thousands of miles from what once was home.

Instinctively I wanted to move toward her sorrow

offer comfort

offer company

but I knew such new pain

needed to be tempered with solitude


time to process

and purge.

I looked up and down the streets

for someone


who might have heard her wails

and shared my heartache

as helpless witness

to such profound sadness.

But no one was about

just the dogs and me

and I suddenly felt intrusive

and newly stricken by my recent loss,

so on we moved

each step ushering its own fresh tears

coming stronger and stronger

as the sounds of her fierce despair

faded into the distance.

Her pain

is now entwined with mine

two unacquainted mourners

ever connected in our losses

in our sorrows.

Each time I pass her street

and recall her suffering

I feel her presence

(though a stranger to mine)

and am trusting time

has eased her pain

her tears

the grief.

Author: Anne Celano Frohna

I have been writing for as long as I could hold a pencil in hand and would not feel complete without it. And I actually made a meager living at it (and as an editor) for 25 years. I worked for newspapers and magazines, in graphic arts and advertising, and wrote several local history books. But I have also taught English in Japan, been a Nanny in Italy, worked in and for museums, was an Airbnb Superhost for four years, as well as an Etsy shop owner where I sold vintage items I found over the years of thrift and yard sales. After moving to Arizona with my family in 2010, I completed a series of different writing projects, including two books of creative non-fiction: Just West of the Midwest: a comedy (Based on journals I kept during my two years as an English teacher in rural Japan.) Within Close Range: short stories of an American Childhood (Short stories and poems about growing up as the middle of five children in suburban Chicago.) I've also written children's stories and continue to write short fiction, but have recently found my voice in poetry. This blog, however, is where my greatest passion comes alive. I am also a mother of two wonderful girls, Eva (23) and Sophia (21) and wife to one wonderful husband, Kurt.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: