EFFIE
She was as tough as they come
they don’t make them like her anymore.
Hands in the dirt,
working in silent reverence
a way of life not long forgotten,
but suddenly remembered.
Beneath the tough exterior
lived a tender heart,
raising children of a lineage
that wasn’t hers,
yet answering the sacred call
to care for babes.
Her hands were never idle
always working with care,
magic pouring from her palms
as she wiped the sweat from her brow
in quiet remembrance
of earth,
sky,
stars,
and spirit.
True to herself,
a light in this world.
I remember the day
I placed my hand
on your cold body
one last earthbound touch
before we returned you home.
I never had bad dreams of you,
because I touched you
before they came to take you to God.
What was left of the woman
who cared for me,
loved me as her own
a love with no limits.
A mother’s love
that reaches beyond
the constructs of time.
The parlor was bright,
flowers climbing every wall
more than the funeral home
had ever seen.
A true matriarch,
now inspiring generations
from beyond.
Riding with my brother
to lay you to rest,
an ache rattled in my chest,
my gut drowning
in the tears
my eyes held hostage.
Driving behind the hearse,
Hank Williams’ crooning through Mr. Lincoln
on the radio
a regal calling,
a hymn to carry you home.
I remember the pink roses
on your casket.
Everything you nourished in this life
made room for more like you.
I see myself in you,
and I feel only honor.
You were my mom.
And I was daughter.
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