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.
Tag: Missing Mom
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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. -
She Lives in Me
For Mom
I breathe in your essence,
what you’ve infused into my soul.
I miss your embrace and the sound of your voice.
And yet, I feel you walking beside me.
It’s the light in my eyes when I
lead with curiosity, whether it’s meeting new people
or trying new experiences.
Your childlike wonder showed me
how to explore the world.
The willingness to make mistakes and fall,
knowing that I would rise again.
You taught me to laugh at myself,
to laugh with others, but not at them.
I miss when you’d say,
“I’m so proud of you.
You reinvented yourself.
You could have just given up,
but you kept going.”
Those words were uplifting,
reminding me that I found a way to live
in the face of grief and trials.
I never minded
as your memory faded
to hear those precious words on repeat
until they disappeared as well.
The gift of encouragement,
especially on days
that are overwhelming and exhausting,
still resound in my head.
It is also a reminder to pay it forward,
telling those I love how proud I am of them,
hoping to spread your warmth
that you left in my keeping. -
Dreaming of Mom
In the night you visit my dreams
Sitting next to your gravestone,
Alert and at peace.
You gather me into your arms,
Just like when I was a child,
Holding me gently, comforting me,
Telling me I’ll be okay.
The tears slip down my cheeks
As I rest my head against your bosom,
Feeling safe and shattered at the same time.
The ether of the dream evaporates,
Leaving me alone in my bed,
My face wet, wanting to hold onto you
And longing for the respite of sleep
To ease my grief again.
Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems 