It’s been half my life since
you went, in the early morning quiet
Fiery crashing heat lightning
the night you died lit
the sky and we all knew
it was you
finally able to dance
You were celebratinig
with the angels up there
free and fiesty
You had
so much spark
Sometimes it was hot and
vindictive, and made us
feel small but
then again, your
passion for
reaching out could be
boundless
I think of you now
as tiny, since you were,
at the end
but I remember you HUGE
on the inside
I remember your hug
that made everything all right
when my first
cherry pie hit the floor,
facedown,
shattered
You enveloped me in
an unassailable wall of goodness
and warmth
and pointed out
the perfection of this crust
if that was how it broke apart
You took my hand
to cross the street
when I was twelve and I
started to pull away;
I don’t need help to cross
I said, all high and mighty
and humbled when
you suggested YOU might
You taught me your craft, bread,
by telling, having me tell,
making me do,
and I am a Lady now,
baker of the bread
You taught me your craft, weaving,
from your bed, piece
by piece description,
you told me, had me
tell and do, and
I am a teacher now
too
You let me into your pain
because I asked you to
I’m older now than you were then,
left without you
all these years
Wow. Beautifully written and hauntingly evocative. Thanks for sharing. xoxo
Thank you, Barbara! I wrote that last year, after my mother had been 30 years gone. I’ve been trying to share my poetry more. Glad you appreciated it.