With apologies to my mother.
South Wind, you mock me
As I grieve.
I implore the heavens for a vision
And instead am blinded by tiny snowflakes.
These tears that stain my face will never dry.
They are my gifts, left unspoken, to the children.
I think of my mother's face, creased in crowsfeet,
Lines of laughter and joy.
Mother, I am growing older too,
But my face is etched with a furrowed brow,
Lines of worry and despair.
I always dreamed of laugh lines,
Carving out memories of a happy life,
But fate had its own mind.
You were always the strong one,
A shining example to look up to.
You have vision.
I forsook that path for rebellion,
Teenage angst and a will for adventure.
Now I stand in the ruins
Of wandering whimsy,
The North Wind's winding path,
Abandoning me like an Ijiraq.
I will shed these tears for the children.
I hope they will grow old,
With faces lined with laughter.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
For E and Troy and Vicki
I remember all my shooting stars
Shining so bright, lighting the way,
But the atmosphere was too great
And space was too dark,
So they fizzled away.
And I want to be a rising star
But I feel like my orbit is too low,
And my spark is too small.
I try to shine brightly
But the darkness closes in
Threatening to engulf me.
Where are all my shooting stars?
They shined so brightly
But too soon they were gone,
Leaving me all alone
In this empty vacuum of space,
Thinking, wondering, dreaming,
Cast upon a different path.
I am no star,
Just a faithful planet
Plodding my course,
My path preset by fate,
Dreaming I was a shooting star.
Posted by LearningLifelong at 1:34 AM