Saturday, March 24, 2012

Poem 28


I remember you; sitting with me at the top of the hill, which lead down to the meadow, we arm in arm, talking about life. You said of me “that I was Strong, Beautiful and Courageous” you said “That I would be ok”. You, 33 years old and I 9 years old, oh how so long ago that was. I now 42 and you since passed (longer than I ever knew you), with me not knowing that this would be the one last conversation with you I would recall.

Strong and Courageous, stoic indeed, and yet none of these traits are becoming to me. I wish you were here to help guide me along, to let me know how to be courageous and strong. For, courage was yours and mine to learn. My beauty was taken along with you, mom.

So there, at the top of this hill, I will remember you most, living by sheer will. Taken, all that was life and creating a whole, never dividing your heart, which it would be told, I’m told of your love, your grace, and so to this day, this is what I hold.

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