December 25, 1998
in "Oh, so many ways".
You're with me every day in all
I do or say.
As another year comes to a close,
and as we share the holidays,
I think of all the many times
I miss you, and the "Oh, so many ways".
You were always with us here at home,
as we opened our Christmas gifts.
You brought your dishes with love prepared,
I miss them, I miss you, your love gave me lift.
As we ate our Christmas turkey, I thought
Mother would have made the pies.
You always brought something wonderful.
Something unexpected, and a grand surprise.
So once again, I really must say,
I miss you Mother,
in "Oh, so many ways".
Yet, I sense you with me,
and I know I always will.
Watch over me, your only child,
my children, your greatest pleasures.
We need you now, more than ever.
I feel you, I know you are with us,
in "Oh, so many ways."
Her body left this earth August, 1996
Her spirit remains with us.
From: South by Candlelight
months, half-crazy with loss,
I fingered the small things that belonged to you,
stubs, receipts, clothes, your writing
on a scrap of paper, your spectacles.
I held to dead inanimate things.
Now they are gone, most of them---
stubs, receipts scattered;
I wore your clothes, gave others away
as you would have wanted.
The writing has faded; ink, illegible.
The spectacles, contributed to a cause,
are in India now.
Perhaps some guru steps into the Ganges,
seeing clearly the river of life flowing.
I know now that what you were
is not in the grave, in bones, in grass or glass,
or on paper or even in my memory alone.
Shaped by you, I wear your print indelibly
as I wore your clothes,
cloth and flesh conformed.
In my mirrored eye
I catch a glimpse of both of us,
a small reflection.
I hear my laughter and I know
this earth will always wear your print,
a faint gleam of light,
an echo intangible as love.
are never lost....In truth, they
grow more wonderful within
the heart that keeps them.
Poems |