Poem for my mother, Lucy Meinhofer, B. 12-21-1907 D. 10-8-2002 |
DON'T GO My mother's touch Always in my life my mother's touch I'm her only love, she tells me Knowing she loves others I know her heart's meaning My mother is ninety-one a blind waif Ninety-one I never thought I'd have her these long but short, short years And how I dread Oh, mommy, how I fear Oh, mommy, how it hurts to have someday to say "My mother was..." You say you eat but all I see is bones Your vanished frame I wrap within my own Your eyes, which once though limited their sight in life and beauty saw unlimited delight a cause for jubilation must weave their cloth of brilliant, silken hues with tenuous threads of your imagination Mamita, I never told you this IT CRUSHED ME, CRUSHED ME, CRUSHED ME So many times I'd tightly close my eyes to shut all beauty out No longer did I care to see what you no longer could My mother is strong I've known her to stroke her dead daughter's still warm face and live to rejoice I'm so very sorry Sorry for pretending nothing could wound the warrior woman Sorry for buying the bravado Not daring, not bearing to stare at your hurt Mommy, do we still have time for you to be my only love too? Again. For mom, Lucy Meinhofer 12/21/1907 to 10/8/2002 Marta Esperanza Edgcombe, Friday, May 7, 1999 |