I see you in the shadows cast by the sun through the leaves,
in the ethereal clouds gliding along the blue sky.
I feel you in the soft breeze of the butterfly’s wings,
in that wisps of air that envelopes me.
You speak to me in the soft summer rain
and the birdsong that greets me in the morning.
Your spirit, no longer confined by skin and bones,
or the weight of physical and psychic pain,
is finally free of the false snares that held you to this earth.
And though I miss your physical presence
-the warmth of your arms around me,
my hand safely held in yours, the sound of your voice-
I know one day I will walk through the veil
that separates you from me, and we will journey forward.
Category: continuing bonds
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Whispers of the Soul
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Memories of Mom’s Red Lipstick
When I look in the mirror, and uncap the lipstick,
carefully applying the bright red to my lips,
I picture my mother looking back at me.
She was not one to fuss with makeup,
but always applied her lipstick with care.
Even as she faded with age, her lips blazed.
And I, who always wore muted colored gloss if anything,
now boldly wear true red in honor of my mother,
shining my light for the world to see. -
If I Could Dog-Ear a Day
Title inspired by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
I’d mark the days when it was just the three of us,
sitting around the glass-top table in your cozy Florida kitchen.
Although one of five children,
for those times, I was your only child,
soaking up the sweetness of having you two all to myself.
The click, click, click of the cards as we shuffled the deck
for the many games of rummy we’d play.
Sharing stories of your life, often heard, but always enjoyed.
Mom, always bragging about being the
rummy champion on Center Street as a child,
was never a graceful loser but was always ready to start anew.
Dad holding onto his cards to get the most points in a play,
even if it meant losing big if one of us played the last card first.
These simple everyday moments are treasures
I hold onto when I miss you the most. -
The Gift I Didn’t Ask For
I sat slumped on the floor,
the wrapping torn off the box.
As I reached inside,
I already knew that I didn’t want this present,
but there was a no return policy stapled to the gift.Who was the giver that would lay
such a heavy unwanted inheritance
for me to carry with me
as I wander the world for the rest of my days.The giver sits next to me,
wrapping one arm around my shoulder
as their other hand wipes away
the tears that run down my cheeks.“Dear one,” they say,
“I know that this present feels like a curse,
and you’d rather that I’d disappear with it,
leaving your world unshaken.”“But grief is interwoven with the love that preceded it
like a finely knitted sweater.
The tattered garment that you now possess
is the love that remains.”I pulled the sweater to my heart,
rubbing the holes that plague this once intact garment,
knowing that my body will learn to adjust to the chill that the holes let in,
while the rest of the sweater will warm me with your memories and love. -
Meet Me Under The Blood Moon
For Mike
I wrestled the camera onto the tripod,
preparing for the appearance of the blood red moon.
I traipsed in and out of the house,
making sure the camera base fit tightly to the stand,
gathering extra batteries so I could capture the moment
and adding layers of clothing
to keep me warm from the bitter night air.
Finally, everything was set,
and I could enjoy the celestial drama.What I found as I tilted my head upwards in between shots
was a wave of peace washing over me.
On this day when you died thirteen years ago
you felt so close in this otherworldly expanse of time and space.
As the red shadow floated next to the dazzling moon
it was like we were dancing in the sky.
And though I can no longer feel your arms around me
or hear you speak my name,
at that moment, I knew that you were somewhere,
just out of reach, watching over me from another horizon.
Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems 