Reading Poetry

I am almost disturbed by the level of darkness in this poem. My mother died when i was small and her death has been a strange thing for me, one in which i really haven't felt anything - no grief, no empathy. "How quickly the ants and beetles ravaged me". Gives me chills. But the darkness is being brought up. I will embrace and i will let go.

My head a hive of wasps
the rain keeps me damp

that darkness that stood there:
Stark, deadly.
If i should awake
seeing him there

dark child, do you avenge?
These flimsy words

like god; cohesive; birth
flimsy men saying "we shall"
we will!

My mother comes to me
speaking:
How quickly the ants and beetles
ravaged me. How quickly.

Years flip:

She took her responsibility up
put that mask of love
on, good show.
Something lurking here
something wrong

this cloud that moves over us

leave it, there is
love elsewhere
not here, child
not here

the dark muffler
with her silent pillow
would quietly
censor that air

here, here
will i ascend from the pit?

Shall i loosen her grip?