Passage premonition peace community struggle acceptance
Peace
These are the worlds I am sitting with these mornings
Praying
Not pursuing
Allowing acceptance love mothering maternal
Mother's love
Grandmother's life gratitude
Peace
Transition
A life
97, a number
A century
Almost
A life
mattered, measured in years
Measured in gratitude,
measured in children nurtured
Measured in memories
A waiter with a formal suit, towel draped over arm, takes your order
A child, wide-eyed, visiting the big city for the first time
Attends a Broadway show
A mother tells the story
A daughter records it on her iPhone
A sister listens in her ear phones, quivers
wonders
How do you measure this? What was she trying to tell us
Or is it just the misfirings of an old woman's addled brain?
Aunt texts me that now she's hallucinating, speaking of things rolling,
I try to think of what she is seeing, hills? The earth and the planets? Years rolling on,
my mind knows that brain cannot conceive of what she sees now
Only hands to hold and hearts to tenderly wrap with love in that tattered blue Afghan,
The soft one that she made me when I was born.
I will wrap her up now and hold her through this
Wishing for peace in her journey across the veil.
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