All Her Tomorrows
We awaken to the realization that this midweek a.m.
Is no Wednesday morning we've ever known
And that no matter how persistently we press our powers,
Believing ourselves far removed from mortality,
We'll not succeed at holding back these inevitable hours,
Cause destiny's set-in-stone proceedings to deviate,
Make it reverse its decision to take our mother into its keeping.
By dusk, we'll have recited the staccato Hebrew phrasings
Of our faith's doleful Mourners' Kaddish,
Spoken our impassioned eulogies,
Made our fervent, prayerful entreaties to God,
Shoveled clods atop our mother's earthly tabernacle,
Tossed roses and orchids, borrowed from her casket's spray,
After witnessing her fleshly essence descend into the mists,
Knowing that all her tomorrows will coalesce into today,
This Wednesday, when nineteen of her extended tribe
Come to witness her settling in,
Her seeping deep into the recesses of gleaming memories
Each of us will still own when we go home, to our discrete spaces,
Certain that she'll live long after she's gone,
Encouraging us, with the tenderness of her spirit, to love.
10/12/11 - (1)
|