When they say I cannot
hear you, sing me lullabies
and folk songs, the ones
I sang to you. I will hear them
as an unborn child can hear
its mother's music through
the waters of the womb.
When they say I can feel
nothing, press your face
against my forehead, rest your
hand against my cheek. I
will feel them as the woman
at the window feels the wind
outside the glass.
When they say I'm past
all caring, brush my hair
and braid in ribbons. I will
know it as the seashells
on my table know the
rhythms of the sea.
When they tell you
to go home, stay with me
if you can. Deep
inside I will be
weeping.
3 comments:
That is very insightful. All my grandparents spent their final years raising cain till their final days. Both grand father's died in their sleep in their own beds. I cannot see a better way though than giving back in those final years.
MONDOVAPOVA:
Yes, she is an excellent poet! And I really loved the way the woman was captured in the photo...deeply moving, yet so subtle.
What's happening in your world today? Must go check it out...
LD
This was written by my friend's mother. It was very touching that she was afflicted by Parkinson's disease at the end if her life. It was as though she wrote to her friends and family of her own life.
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