Friday, September 10, 2010

What Does September Mean to Me?

September 3 is/was my RL mother's birthday, she died younger than she should have. Oh the longing to be with her, laugh with her, once again cherish her so intensely that my love becomes almost an invisible, breathing entity in the room, pulsating a cloak of security woven in the colors of I-would-never-want-any-other-RL-Mama-than-you...the yearning to duplicate that will never fade till I search the clouds and see her on a distant cumulus puff of JOY, joy at last! This month is many things to people (especially the 11th) but to me it is gratitude for the memory of what was...the hope for what will be...                                                                                                              

PS. too grownup a topic for kiddie lingo today

PPS. Here's a simple poem I wrote shortly after she died:


“All her numbers are going down”

said the doctor

on Mama’s last afternoon:

“We might as well shut off

the oxygen.”

“NO” I stressed

with a volume showing

my decibel numbers

were going up.

He left her, then, in a coma

and drifting

to the soothing sound of bubbles,

the musicality of bubbles…

like in the restaurant where we loved

seats by the aquarium

or our family’s fish tank

with bloated guppies we’d overfed

like the glass-bottomed boat ride

over cypress roots at Silver Springs

or the filtered swimming pool

where she’d held me up

till I could float.

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