Here is a poem for my mother to celebrate her 84th Birthday coming on Sept 18, 2010.
On Credit
Each season is a form of temper
And living creatures all
Emerge from the same swamp
We are the most bug-like
As we lay out gardens
Line up plants
Along the perimeter of a fence
If we were cold blooded we'd
Swim in icy water until our hearts stopped.
In Winnipeg the Red River nearly spills its banks
I hold my mother's hand
As we listen to a band playing
Love Me Tender
And remember the Elvis movie she took me to
As a boy of five
And I know the whole truth is out there somewhere
And that she and I are mixed in with it
Later she lies bundled in bed for the night
The broadest smile on her face
Each day is what she wakes to
Nothing more than breath
And moistened eyes
She blows air at me
And I know she is trying to communicate
I hear sirens out her window
Proof the outside world still exists.
There are atoms that pulse so
Regularly they do not lose a second in 37 million years.
The universe is a spring that
Winds up and then down again
And has been doing so forever
When I look
Into her fading eyes
I see back to a cloudy moment
Before I was born.
After I kiss her good night
I stand at the door to her room
Until she closes her eyes
Her mouth a happy grin
I want to hold onto this moment
Want it to go on for a very long time
But as I turn to leave it has already passed.
I walk a few steps up the hall to the elevator
But come back for one more look.
Her eyes remain closed and if she senses me
She makes no sign of it.
I am struck by how peaceful she is
And separate from me
As if I have paused at a stranger's room
I think of melting snow in April
How spring pushes forward
With force at this latitude.
When I return to the street
The parking lot has filled with large puddles
From the rapid melt
Spring is the season of most flux
Change more sped up
As the earth works quickly
Through rain and sun
As purposeful as anything
God has done on our behalf.
And as I get in my sister's car
My mother is sound asleep
This day for her already over
Although it is barely 8 PM
That's just how it is after a certain age
We're but spread apart fingers
And a light puff of air
That can be quickly stopped.
