I wrote this poem as I was grieving the loss of my mom. It will be six years ago in July, but, yes, it feels like yesterday. I’m still grieving to this very day, but the edges of the pain are not so sharp. I’ve been given gifts from the tragedy of losing my mom so young: gifts like wisdom and gratitude for the time I do have with people. I love my mom still and know that somewhere, somehow, she is still a part of my life. In story, in soul, in poetry, in the curve of my daughter’s lips, and in my own memories. I have no real assurance that I’ll see her physically again, but it doesn’t matter. She’s with me now, just not in the way she once was.
She Walks With Sparkle Motes
She walks with sparkle motes
Bounces in the stars
Rains on my flowers and even my
own upturned face, eyelashes damp
She stopped being her body and separated
into a prism of a trillion billion billion
and upward to infinity of
She transformed into energy so vibrant and
forceful that it drives the universe
enflames it in passion and
Reminds us that the whole huge thing revolves
around the tiniest of intentions
the energy behind any particular thought.
I can’t hold her hand or hear her voice, but she in her new likeness bounces through my spirit, little bright lights and spears of joy.