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Hey, Mom, do you see me tonight?
- making curtains for Lalania
mending her sweater
using your needles
and scissors
taking stitches as though
you were taking them
wishing I had a wooden egg
like you used for darning
wishing you had a plastic one
the wooden one was so heavy
it may have been easier
to use a darn darning egg
but I made do without one
and did a pretty fair job, too
as you would have done
as you did when you were
here with us
being our kind Mom
always doing the good
even during those times
that weren’t always so good
but you did your best
to take care of us and everything
and we knew you loved us
as we love you
but you are still here with me
Mom
your stitchings and many of your things are
everywhere
all through the house
and in my classroom
things that you made
things that you didn’t have time
to make things with
here with me
to share with the people of the world
who were kind like you
oh, if there were more like you
this world would be beautiful
with tapestries of good
and smiles
and love.
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Hey, Dad, do you see me?
typing on the computer like you used to do
for hours and days
I have ice water by me instead of coffee by you
that bitter warm brown liquid of comfort
a catalyst for thoughts creative
swimming in the mind
waiting for a thought to form
something that would
keep the reader wondering
what does the writer mean by this?
and yet with further scrutiny
the message just about slaps you in the face
like all the notes people have written about you
your cynicism provoked by intelligence
many will never know
how brave and determined you were
demonstrating your disgust with all the injustice
percolating within the soles of this species
called man
like the coffee pot on the stove
that burned me as a toddler
because I was curious
why it bubbled up but didn’t escape its glass ceiling
Glass ceilings are above many NOW
those millions you spent half of your life fighting for
I had no reason to ever question your love
not for mankind and not for me
I could always feel it, and yes, see it in your ways
but you are still with me here
Dad
in my thoughts
speaking through me before I can think
your talent is untouchable
but the innate nature to create
is driven by the pen on the paper
and the keyboard with its alphabet images on a screen of light
as you light my way
through the ways of the world
seen through these eyes of your blue and in the memories
like the first with you
carrying me to bed swaddled in bandages
protecting the skin burned by that first
cup of coffee from that coffee pot
on the stove of temptation.
millnotes 7/23/03 |
