A Poem For My Late Mother

I looked into the face of my late mother, and from her pure, placable eyes I saw the light reflected from the paradise hearth. I am kneeling beside her deathbed, ardently looking at the sky, praying to the guardian angel to lend its wings to the soul that fell asleep, so it would fly into the sky, too. But the coffin is closing, and the night wind, a sullen and very austere guardian, wakes in his watchtower, as if tending to a hungry death. I held my hand upon her heart, and a silent tear slid onto her face, sparkling like the morning dew. In my chest, my heart is beating so coldly. In this state, some higher Invisible hand could have animated me to set my sight at the sky; to set my hope at the sky where we shall meet. © Walter William Safar 2010