She Had a Rainbow In Her Heart
I used to watch my mother sew
she would sit at her machine
and run the fabric through its course
making perfect seams.
She would make me suit,
fit me with lots of little tugs,
call me a handsome little man
and give me loving hugs.
She’d button up my self esteem
me, dressed in my suit of youth
and walk me very cautiously
down the avenues of truth.
With the patience of eternity
she would persevere
and explain away uncertainties
that filled my timeless years.
She had a rainbow in her heart,
sparkling through the prism of her eyes,
eyes still dancing in my memory
like a parade of fireflies.
I soon found myself in rebellious years,
in a world I couldn’t define,
that wore my understanding thread bare
and tore the fabric of my mind.
My mother she would patch me up
and iron out my thoughts;
me dressed in tatters of deceptions
and lies stitched into my thought.
She said one day all these things
would hang in the closet of my past,
and that all things fashioned by deceptions
were never bound to last.
She had a rainbow in her heart
sparkling through the prism of her eyes,
eyes still dancing in my memory
like a parade of fireflies.
My adult years would have been
pockets filled with emptiness
but for the patterns of deception
mom showed me in the social dress.
One day I got a call, the clan was to gather ‘round
it was almost time to put mother in the ground.
When we buried her, it was in late July
I stayed behind till the sun began to die.
I stood there in my memories, had myself a cry
while the silver moon rose and came alive.
When I turned to leave upon my last goodbye
I could see through the teardrops in my eyes
parades of dancing fireflies
hugging all the stars up in the sky.
She had a rainbow in her heart
sparkling through the prism of her eyes,
eyes still dancing in my memory
like a parade of fireflies.
Copyright © John Wilowski | Year Posted 2017
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