Five. Part three: For Mom

"When I miss her, I go barefoot. I understand now that a bit of her remains with me. She tucks herself into the folds of my skirt. Buried in the dirt under my fingernails, she laughs with the wisp of hair freed from wind. She finds my heart to bring me perspective. It's then that I'm able to see how far I've come from where she once stood.  Look deep to find your roots. Look deeper to find the mud from where you grow. Nothing is forever. Yes, mothers die too young. And yet there is still so much life waiting to sprout and grow. Beauty waiting to be seen. All things lost come back to you." (Meredith Winn, Taproot Issue #1)

At the service at the funeral home my sister and I each read something we wrote.  I am so thankful that my sister wrote an original poem to share and inspired me to do the same. I used an existing poem to help me with the format of mine.

For Mom

Inspired by "For my Mother" by Michelle Wolf 

from When I am Old I shall wear purple.

I am honored to

sharpen more and more to your

likeness every year, your mirror

in face, autonomous 

laughter, hearty and contagious

In broad shoulders, curved pinky, torso

curve of hips, strong legs, big feet

I watch my aging face,

In a speeding time lapse,

Become yours. Notice the eyes,

darkened circles, heavy with inherited 

wear. The inertia of compassion, keeping it

within, holding tight, being strong

There are no limits to the broad

sweet, perpetual smile, beyond the

groves along the mouth

Grip my hand, mom

Let me show you the way

To recognize what we are born to,

Let me reveal to you the strength

you give, the courage to give and

love others, laugh and love freely

GIVE

Mom, let me show you how and where you

live in me.