Tonight I wrote a poem.
Yes. It was a love
poem.
Those are always the best kind.
But not gushy and sweet,
like the ones I write when he gives
me butterflies
with just one gaze from across a crowded room.
No, this poem that I wrote does not dwell on that.
Instead, tonight I wrote a poem about a love lost.
Not one where I’m jaded and my words are laced with
bitterness and despair because his heart now longs for another.
The poem, it tells of a different love story,
that one day will yield a happier
ending.
The words weave a picture of a deep abiding love,
that a child has for her mother.
Although old enough to now bear my own children,
I still long for the warmth of my
own mother’s hug.
Which is no longer possible.
For, she’s gone.
Well, not fully.
The soft kiss that was planted on my forehead
right before she left to start her
day,
even now I can faintly feel it.
The spiced, citrus-y scent that followed her effortlessly
(when inhaled today)
immediately conjures an image of
her beauty.
Tonight’s reflection is based upon today.
August 24th.
1948.
The day of her
birth.
And today, I celebrate.
Even though she’s gone.
Years pass so swiftly – but 12 feels the same as 1, as 50.
The void that this loss leaves behind is just sneaky like
that.
“Happy Birthday” I write with joy.
And the next moment my pen shifts,
words filled with a longing,
sadness of what now exists only in
my memory.
1987.
A day we
celebrated, in our new home, our new life.
In just a few short days, we learned devastating news.
As we sang, ate cake and laughed,
my new friend’s world crumbled,
due to a loss I didn’t understand
then.
But do now.
All too well.
Too young to be without her father.
But he was gone.
And, as months and years passed,
during those moments when reality interrupted the
continuation of one’s life,
She, cried.
Her mother, wept.
Her sister, sobbed.
At that time I was moved by sympathy because of their pain.
Tonight, I wrote because I know what those tears meant.
Longing. Sadness.
Hurt. A plea for relieve.
And so, I wrote a poem.
2017.
My two hearts
reclaim my attention.
Each embarking on a new journey in their young lives.
Middle school and Pre-K.
And I feel my heart expand with pride, anticipation, and
hope.
As I wrote a love poem tonight,
recalling my mother.
A woman I love.
Admire.
Miss and cherish.
I write of the loves that remain.
They are a continuation of the joy she was.
Earlier today,
my youngest love asked if we could
go to where Grandma Nancy is
to give her a birthday cookie.
Her mother reassured her, she already knows we’re
celebrating her today.
We can’t go to her today.
But, one day we will.
Tonight I wrote a poem.
A poem about love.
My love.
My mom.
