Categories
Illness Mothers Poetry Spirituality Writing

Ambrosia for Her Soul

She breathes in the fantasies

Living through adventures born

From her daughter’s world

 

Holding tight desperately seeking

A life she would never know

She waits by the phone

Silence filling the air

Having waited too long

She turns away

Then all at once

The ring

 

Tentatively answering

Her heart races hearing

That oh so familiar voice

The salve for her soul

“Hello Mom…how are you?”

Barely able to contain herself

“Good”

 

Chattering on

A good five minutes or so

The daughter’s mundane tasks

Feed her full of newly born memories

Inserting herself as daughter

She returns to the fantasies

Reviewing, remembering

Her world still intact

Her only child feeding her life

 

Caught in a circle of questions

Once, twice, three times answered

A merry-go-round of words

Fills the void

The silent unknowns

 

“And how are those doggies?”

The always answer of “They are great”

Followed by a laundry list of wagging tails

And guard dog barking

Seems to serve her thirst for conversation

She laughs then

“Oh how I wish I could be there”

 

Silence

A wellspring of sorrow harkens

The daily moment when heartbreak beckons

 

“Oh how I wish I could be there”

But knowing the truth

This cannot be

The subject changes to weather

And the circle of questions

Begins again

Delighting

Filling her days

Ambrosia for her soul

 

Categories
Illness Mothers Poetry Spirituality Women Writing

Waiting

Sitting silently waiting

Disinfectant fills the air
A cave incrusted
With antiseptic walls
Waits for the moment
When fear subsides
Between heartbeats
The constant sound
Of hopeless wonder
Sends a paul of light
Infusing this artificial womb
The veil thins
The breath remains steady

Moments
A gentle snore
Gurgling
Whispering
Not Now
Not Yet
Closing a door
Opening a window
While in the same moment clinging
Just one more day
Nothing seems important anymore
Nothing but this moment
And the embrace
As the breath remains steady
Yet shallow

Categories
Mothers Poetry Spirituality Women Writing

Mom

She stands tall

Wheelchair locked behind glass doors

Hands cover her mouth

As if the bite of Minnesota

Had chilled her to the bone

But no

It was to mute her “Oh, Oh, Oh’s

Desperate to contain her joy

 

Stepping from the car

She walks

Then runs

Falling into her Mother’s arms

She nestles her face into the crook of her neck

The scent of roses infused with jasmine

Ignite memories thick

Folding her back into childhood

Where innocence turned fallow

But is now reborn

 

Brushing hair from her Mother’s face

Her make-up

Grease paint thick

Rouge clown bright

Lips Monroe red

The application

Signature Mom

A gift to show her independence

 

Her perfectly coiffed du

Twice weekly done

With long, luxurious manicured nails

Complimenting her red stained lips

And a black velvet pant suit

With jeweled Prada slip-ons

The latest fashion coordinates

To prove her thinking intact

 

Nothing but pure love spills from her

Not the mother of her yesterdays

Crusted through time

But the mother who is filling her heart today

Her essence bold and sweet

Her sweetness filled with gratitude and grace

Coming to the end of her days

With a kind of certainty

That captures the heart

 

Her world bound in raw emotion

An unsettling night brings feces

Torn bits of paper towel

Spilt milk

The faint scent of urine

 

A good day offers memories and cookies

Afternoon naps and belly-filling laughter

“Tell me about those doggies”

And “How funny is that”

 

Tender devotion blossoms

She becomes her intrinsic nature

From days of crinoline dresses

And patent leather Mary Jane’s

Her mother returns

Living where she had always dreamed

Within the innocent beauty of the Goddess’ delight

 

 

Categories
Illness Mothers Poetry Spirituality Women

For Leela

You were my touchstone

My cherished friend
Every moment with you a blessing
Every conversation a learning
Knowing you was knowing myself
And knowing myself was knowing Ma

I watched you leave
Waiting for the light to capture me as well

We were lovers of a different kind
Sisters deep
We sat in turmoil
Sat in worship
Sat in joy
Sat in love
We whispered in the dark
Sharing secrets

Every connection a treasure
Every touch a blessing
I miss you dearly
Sweet Sister
We never had the chance to say good-bye

Every evening I pray for my dreams to call you
Hoping beyond hope you will appear
And I will awaken the following day satiated
Our intimate connection still running deep

How do I circle the sun without you?
You were that connection that helped me believe
You were that connection that helped me know
You helped me touch love
Touch tenderness
Touch life
You helped me know who I am

I wait for you to call again
Just one more time

I remain behind in silent practice

Categories
Illness Mothers Poetry Spirituality Women Writing

Blank Landscape

i wait in the fire for your arrival

staunch, clear and full of grace

you whispered in my ear your yearnings

and i floated up into the sky

each breath, each sigh a relief

a  gaze into eternity

 

i wrestled the waves until i was blind

diving deep below the ocean

below the ring of fire

below all dense matter

i wrestled with myself and you came to me

 

softly

through the ether

tender and true

 

lurching for affection i tripped

landing on all fours

and although a baby in my own arms

you never once looked to shame

 

and now i am alone

searching, seeking anonymity

yet they come relentless and sure

without any humility of reticence

their time has come and  i seek forgiveness

simply because my downfall will be unnoticed

Categories
Mothers Poetry Spirituality Women Writing

Reinventing

I sink I pray I loose myself in love
I touch I heal I awaken to Spirit’s call
I wonder I reel I expand into Mother’s womb
I embrace I see I dance with the fire of life
I dream I am I sail on the wings of light