Thursday, January 25, 2018

Winding Down: A Window Pane on Parting


Winding Down: A Window Pane on Parting
©2018 Susan Noyes Anderson

We sit.
She, burgundy chair.
Me, blue leather sofa.
Like so many times
before, days of yore.
She used to watch me,
claim me, eyes love-lit.
I'd blush. You're staring, Mom.
But I put up with it.

She watches still.
Soft hazel eyes,
once bright
stare past me now
devoid of mother-light.
Unclaimed, I try
to hold her eyes
with mine. Be seen,
be heard, be known,
wait for a sign.

Sure love you, Mom.
My voice, too soft,
falls lonely.
I love you.
Louder now and yet
unheard.
Oh, for a word!
Heart plummeting,
I yield
or nearly so.
Mom's moving on
beyond me.
This I know.

We sit.
She, burgundy chair.
Me, blue leather sofa.
Like so many times
before, days of yore.
Between us, coffee table,
stool, my longing.
I lift a hand,
small wave from
distant shore.

Sunrise. As if on strings, 
her elbow bends.
One weathered hand responds.
The distance ends.
I blow a kiss; she smiles.
Ghost smile, but true.
Small fingers pressed to lips,
she blows back two.
I twist my hands in
semblance of a heart.
She follows suit and
claims me, every part.

Time pauses;
eye to eye
our spirits touch.
So many years remembered,
sweetly shared.
I love you, Mom.
Once more, her
light shines through.
Sun to my soul,
she speaks.
I love you, too.

∞§∞

The onset of dementia is an inexplicable sorrow for loved ones, and my family is no different. I can imagine few things more heartbreaking than watching my lovely, intelligent mother decline in capacity day by day. How I miss her insights, her humor, her comfort, even her criticism (though she rarely aimed any in my direction). I miss her sudoku, her crossword puzzles, her Kindle, her love for Reality TV talent shows. I miss her delight in See’s candy, small dogs, and Swedish pancakes. I miss her cooking, her curiosity, her crazed kitchen cleaning.

Yes, I miss her, but I am also grateful for the pieces of her 90-year-old self that are left to me. This poem shares a moment that I will treasure always. Maybe it will resonate with you.

For long-time readers: I know how many of you have enjoyed my mom over the years (remember her blog?), and I wanted you to know that she is being well-loved and receiving 24-hour care in her home. Her wonderful husband (Dick) is by her side, as devoted and attentive as ever. Mom still has much to smile about, and she does...especially on her good days. She remains our greatest treasure.

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for more poems, click below

Thursday, January 18, 2018

Soul Substance


Soul Substance
©2018 Susan Noyes Anderson

The spirit finds home
inside warm flesh and bone,
taking ownership,
giving direction.
Should the formula fail, 
appetite will prevail,
driving action
without due reflection.

More blessings abound
when the nexus is found.
Spirit breathes, and
the body is whole.
Sacredness is defined
as the two are combined
in God's greatest creation:
the soul.

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