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The Man Who Loved Gimewanookwe

He searches her face, scarcely remembering a time He did not know her; seeing now her dark eyes Surrounded by age and closed against the pain. He searches her face, remembering the first time he saw her Stepping lightly across the river carrying the basket filled with berries. He searches her face, remembering for a moment the sparkling defiance Brought about by the choice she made for love. He searches her face, scarcely daring to hope her eyes will clear And she will know him again, know him as once she did when their love was new. He searches her face, willing her to come back, To lose the demons that return again and again to steal her power And shut her away from him. He searches her face, not wanting to look away, He softly speaks her name, Gimewanookwe, remembering the first time He whispered her name in love. He searches her face, smoothing back the graying hair, stroking the lines of pain, Feeling the faint, weak pulse of her courageous heart. He searches her face, he speaks her name again, Gimewanookwe, she whom I love, Gimewanookwe, Rain Woman. He searches her face, willing her to open her eyes, willing her to remember And rise up from this bed, rise up and be healed of this crippling fever. He searches her face, praying for a sign, praying she will return to him As she was before the white man’s illness. He searches her face, wondering where she will go when she passes from him, For he knows she is nearly gone; he takes her gently in his arms. He searches her face and hears the first drops of rain falling softly upon the quiet land; He knows what he must do. He searches her face as he gently lifts her from the bed; she weighs no more than a child. He wraps the blanket tightly around his only love and carries her out into the night rain. He searches her face as he lays her down on the grass beside the garden. Rain falls softly on her face; the quiet touch of God He watches her face; her eyes widen and brighten. Once again he searches for life, then softly whispers her name, Gimewanookwe, Before he gently closes her eyes. {In Honor of Constance, the Rambling Poet, in gratitude for inspiring this poem with her contest ‘Rain’.}

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 2/28/2011 2:33:00 AM
Hi Deb, This is beautiful and sad. You've painted a wonderful picture here and it is very well expressed. The line "the quiet touch of God" as the rain touches her face is so moving. Well done! Norma :)
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