Mama Dearest
The flutes afloat, am I dreaming, it seems not right.
Bluebirds - I cannot see their melody in flight.
From the grand-girls, I love the sunflowers - a ray.
The flowers crisp; I let them die; no other way.
Scent of roses, a-breeze; her funeral last week.
The woeful nose; brief breaths; stretched arms of Christ, I seek.
In dream, soft hand; darkness would not let me see her.
Another sleep, she keeps her distance far; a blur.
Open spacious, the gate of pearls, so I might tweet.
There, distant wings that fly, and cover face and feet.
Open my eyes, so I might see eternity,
The blinding light of kin - I’ll serve you fervently.
And still closer, draw me, that I might feel the love.
All suffering, disrobed, a wardrobe white, thereof.
I praise thee, Lord. Through fog, I still admire your crown.
Seeing’s not believing; I’ve faith; in truth, I drown.
These saints of mine, and yours, consolation in grief.
Christ in it all; he pardons sins; time’s not a thief.
He wept, was scourged, and died; told Satan…get behind.
In suffering and resurrection, we…are twined.
Mama dearest, still can’t believe you’re gone; you’re not!
Within his arms, he holds you free; lovingly taut.
The God of all comfort; within me stirs his voice.
The sky is blue. The clouds puffy with tears, and joy.
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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