Jan Pearce | + Follow Poet |
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Beauty

For my mother...


“Beauty”


I see you now…smaller, more fragile, 
balancing yourself when you walk,
the wind at your back, unkind to the wisp of strength
that still clings to your fervent spirit.

I marvel at you every day;
the little things you remember,
the others you forget.

You're content to read grocery ads now,
find an occasional Western on television,
be treated to a Sunday afternoon lunch,
be remembered on Mother's Day.

I remember when you wanted more,
required meatier tasks to occupy your mind,
found strength in doing, doing, doing.

We repeat ourselves to you now,
explaining again, those things 
you cannot deem as important in a mind crowded 
with so many poignant memories.

I pray for patience,
for understanding, for compassion,
seeing myself in you, in say, another 20 years.

You walk ahead of me,
striving to maintain your dignity.
I trail behind, unbeknownst to you,
watching, guarding,
lest you might fall and find a need for me.

I watch you, little by little, slipping away from me.
edging closer to your own idea of Heaven,
that grander piece of Paradise
that holds the promise of better things to come.

I store the memories of you every day,
struggling to hold on to the vibrance that you once were,
grasping, with both my hands,
the little bit of life that remains inside of you.

I fear to lose you, and yet I have, already,
piece by piece, as a little more of you
 is taken from the heart of me.

You walk ahead, I know you must,
the thin, white hair, unruly now,
the back since bowed,
the skin, an ashen shroud,
that whispers of your fortitude.

And there, in the cruel reality of senility,
I see intermittent flashes…
of the blue eyes that captured untold hearts,
that tempestuous hair that fell flirtingly
across your cheek when you laughed,
the Dresden complexion that glowed with youthful expectation
at the mere prospect of Life,
and I remember you,
the way you once were,
the way you will always be to me.

Yes,
I remember…beauty;
           it was my Mother.

Copyright © Jan Pearce | Year Posted 2016

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