I will plunge my hands into the deep brown earth
To pluck the wild, velvet flowers,
And wait for you to teach me how to bind them—
An art I only want to learn from you.
I’ll lay them upon your hair, a quiet crowning,
Claiming you as the sovereign of my world,
And though I’ll never tell you the burning reason why,
My eyes will say it all.
I’ll watch you climb toward the sky,
And steal a thousand pictures of your joy,
Until the bark makes your palms tremble
And you fall back into the waiting grass.
I will tumble down beside you,
So my hands, too, carry the sting of the wood,
Both of us marked by the same adventure,
Your arms lifting me as we fall together.
When you press your lips to my forehead,
My cheek, my nose, or my hands,
I will hold my breath,
Pretending it’s just a casual thing you do,
Even when my heart tells me
It’s the only holy thing I know.
To her mother’s spanks,
let her cry on your tender shoulder,
oh, my toy Teddy.
Through all her sleepless nights,
lull her to deep sleep;
by her side remain steady.
When the weather burns hot,
soak her sweat away.
When cold wind whispers,
let your warmth be ever ready.
Though you are a toy,
be more than that to her.
If you had a tummy,
let her feed you, as if you live.
Though she dislikes your silver shade,
in the darkest nights,
let your brightness calm her fears.
Throughout her childhood,
even for a breath—never leave.
Remain her best friend;
though wordless, speak to her heart,
for only in your comfort she believes.
Such were the tender words of my aunt’s sermon
to my beautiful Eliza,
for she fulfilled each promise
made to Aunty Jane,
showering me with nothing but relief.
Joana, here I hand over to you Eliza,
from your grand aunt to you, my niece.
As she guided my childhood,
let her guide yours too.
Keep her clean, take good care of her.
As I hand her over to you,
one day hand her to your niece too—
a bond of comfort
that will outlive just us two.
Mary
Mary Eliza Mahoney
birth in 1845 an American black child of former slaves daughter of Mary Jane and Charles Mahoney
at 18 showed interest in healing Humanity
in 1863 and the New England hospital for women and children headed
into the healthcare industry
has a younger sister named Ellen also wanted to become a nurse
but alas she didn't graduate
Mary train long days 16 hours
students then earn $1 to $4 an hour
Mary graduated 1879 as a registered nurse
alongside with three other colleagues as the first black woman nurse in the United States of America
2/6/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2021©
Sunruse: May 7th 1845 Dorchester Massachusetts
Sunset: January 4th 1926 Boston Massachusetts
Nationality: American
Alma mater: New England Hospital for Women and Children
It’s been nearly 10 years since the last time I saw your face.
We grew up together, started preschool together,
Took ballet class and gymnastics together;
We played on the same soccer team.
My first memory is of sipping cinnamon cocoa and sitting
At your kitchen table, when we made angels in the snow.
It was in third grade that my family moved away.
You were the first person I told and the last person I said goodbye to.
We promised to keep in touch, but the months grew
As long as the sunflowers we planted.
That summer we turned six.
We were so young when I left.
Soon it had been years since we had talked and now, it’s been longer still
But I will never forget the hours we spent playing in your backyard
As the sun danced across the sky and dipped far below the horizon
Or how you made me the person that I am
I will never forget you
Eliza Riddle brushed her hair in silence
long silver strands, sleepy, floating to the floor
Her horn rimmed glasses read the book
next to her bed
without her
for boredom overtook her when
she thought she guessed the ending.
Eliza did her stretches before sleep
one...
two...
three...
in a long nightgown and silk slippers
with silly pom-poms on them
She methodically filled her sipping
glass with tap water from the sink
and set it down beside her bed
The house settled in too.
Creaked as it did it's stretches
Wind blowing in from the open window
in her room;
the curtains just fluttering eyelashes
to the soul of outdoors.
Eliza bid the house the usual goodnight,
her friend in solitude for thirty five years
since Mr. Riddle passed on.
She crawled under the same down blanket
they had both shared,
curled up next to his still cold pillow
and teetered on the verge of sleep
with the last thought before dreams
of déjà vu -
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