It was quiet in the meeting room
just down the hall, as I came in.
I knew that she would be, as well.
And there she was, propped in her wheel chair,
body in pink jumpsuit, cocked
far to the side, not quite asleep.
For her, there was no false facade.
One saw, and got a mumbling ancienne
and no apologies.
Then suddenly it was time
for people, punch, and platitudes,
kids and candy mints and cake.
The honored guest forsaken,
just as if she were not there,
reached out...I saw her once,
accepting then one small remembrance,
but too late, the speaker
had already turned away
and I, but for the press of day,
had need to cry; they missed it,
souls who turned hello into goodbye.
The small ones never really knew you, mom,
and that's ok; your spirit longs
to break away. The authors
of the books you knew, will soon
make room for Elna in their dusty rooms
along a corridor in paradise
where dusty reticence is blown away
by one enchanted newborn breath
of joy.
~
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
This is probably my favorite one. I like the raw emotion underlying it which promotes one to think about it. Your other poems are well written, very intellectual and well thought out, but I rather like this little capture of a moment where the simplicity of it speaks vast wisdom to our hearts.
Thank you. Accessibility is something that I am finally trying to achieve...I have a few others like this, and they do seem to have more appeal. But, I'm a stubborn guy, you know.
Post a Comment