How do you like my Easter Poem..based on a true experience?
Posted on January 16th, 2010 by admin
Dedicated to the One Who Taught Me How to Love
by Recital Vinylist
She is risen
She has risen indeed..
And giveth to her body those small favors that allow her to be comfortable in her own skin..
the lemon..the tea…the prozac
the ritual warm washcloth to soothe the brow
So that she may make everyone else’s skin comfortable..
bellies fed, arguments defused.
She spits on her finger to wipe away the smudge from the face
of a child otherwise perfect in the little Sunday clothes.
Bonnets tied neatly at the chin
Clip-on ties straightened, shoes shined…
Till the sweat on her brow returns again.
She is mom.
She is every woman
She is you.
And she does not complain..
"He is Risen!"
"He is Risen Indeed!
"Hi Mom!"
How this joyous day finds me somehow forlorn
not to share these glad tidings with her
after decades of ritual.
Who will make the Easter basket appear at the foot of my bed,so that I may continue to believe for one more year?
Where is my fli-bak paddle?
Why now do I suddenly crave the urge to ransack the backyard
to find the eggs she could not hide for me this time?
I thought I had forgotten.
I look in the mirror, perplexed.
And on my face…a smudge..
She is risen..
She is risen indeed..
And sitteth on the right hand of her father
And on the left hand of my father..
She is in love’s care.
Whole..happy..perfect..like the children she raised
Her eyes dancing with glee
as she watches ‘The Bells of St. Mary’s’ for the last time..
and for eternity
I look into heaven and wave…she waves back.
The legacy of love..
This Woman’s Work.
Just beautiful.
You are a good son.