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10/19/11 - (2)
Into the Mists
Two weeks ago, tomorrow, My mother lay down, in the silence of her soul, Closed her eyelids, on the diminished resistance of her existence, Decided she'd finally outlived her life, And simply slipped away, disappeared into the whisperous mists.
One week ago, today, My mother took her place at my father's side, As she had for the six and a half decades of their marriage, Both of them renewing their wedding vows, Close enough to God for Him to hear their adoring Shemas.
This Wednesday dusk, home from a six-day trip, I light the tall white candle I should have set aglow a week ago, To put closure to my mother's burial. Seven dusks from tonight, when its dancing fire dies, I'll sigh, gasp, realize that time has cast its last shadow on her,
That eternity has stepped between my mother and me, Interceded, as forever's valedictory gesture to death. For now, I'll resurrect every vision of her in memory's reservoir, To keep her existence aligned with mine, So that she doesn't ever again disappear into the mists.
10/19/11 - (2)
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