Richard Evans Poet Sestina

And Now The Twilight

she had no reaction as I entered the room my mother
had no clue I just ran up two flights of stairs
though she did gaze at me as if to say what’s your point
her words making a feeble attempt to pass through lips
that drooped and appeared quite numb
her wanting stare the polaroid of a child

gone now are the days when I would come as child
to her for guidance to my nurturing mother
I being naïve to the stepping stones before me and numb
to the task of climbing the steep stairs
of love and life while hiding behind pouted lips
that came from having no vision of a starting point

if I might add to this ample point
how life can include the transition from parent to child
child to parent a passing confirmed by the placing of lips
against the brow for her to understand my beloved mother
these final steps of ascension upon heavenly stairs
will not be wrought with the painful and numb

the challenge I now face cannot leave me numb
and never will it take me to a breaking point
though I may weep as I ascend these stairs
still the role I must play shall make me more than child
but never a figure as broad as her my dear mother
for to serve and defend her these would not be passive lips

my mind became dry and parched like the lips
of a thirsty minion as my heart examined the numb
cold sense that I might lose her my precious mother
for this crossroad of life has brought me to that point
of revelation where true love demands that I the child
find the strength to carry us both up these final flights of stairs

the strain of her final ascent upon these stairs
shall not bring a shred of doubt from my lips
I will draw my strength from being that loving child
whom she bestowed the gift of life but kept numb
the thought that I might have been a burden that blocked her point
of direction or dreams my beloved mother

and now my mother my friend a last kiss from tearful lips
for we’ve reached the top of the stairs and my heart though numb
knows full well from this point on the true love between parent and child

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CayCay Godwin September 5, 2025 at 2:13 AM It was all I could do not to cry. You should put this in the next marathon contest, depending on the line count. I have been blessed to live long enough to change roles with my Moma (my spelling), not Dad, but Moma, yes. It is painful, sad, somber, downright emotionally poetic and you've captured it. Are we blessed to know the feel vs. those who loose both parents when they're still relatively young? I hear God say yes, thou it's so hard to watch a parent diminish. Poetry hugs ... CayCay Richard Evans September 11, 2025 at 3:27 PM Thank you my friend. Nothing inspires a poet like family. All the best................peace!