Tango For My Mother At Age 90 What is hidden in the body comes undone in summer heat beneath your name and I have lost my way giving back what you gave, as if it is that simple unthreading this genetic maze that was your shadow cast upon the ground. But for awhile, let us dance where no one danced before, in meadows separating life from death, let us wear the garments of our sorrow and our joy that at the end are merely skin and bone loaned us for awhile. As if it is just that simple, will we meet again at the foot of the mountains, in pastures of grazing horses, and travel together again in the old ways, following the path cut for us by birth? You of Earth, I of sky at the foot of the mountains where the snow-melt wanders, waiting still to rest? Is there for us a day that wipes away the body and the blood between dawn and sunset, as rain sometimes wipes away the stains we accumulate on our way away from each other and towards that other horizon? No longer am I able to say You or I, no longer are my cries children nurtured on the path from the pain of birth you so willingly gave. In the gravest hours of my life all that was taken is returned. Your image ages in the mirror, yet you laugh at the pain. What else can I do to ease your passing besides live, breath deeply, love, and remain ? LHM © 2013
Posted on: Sat, 06 Jul 2013 16:00:48 +0000
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