nothing to see but the closest trees
resting like fingers next to me -
my mother with me this morning
that womb that opened when she died
the womb that brought me here
opened now to space and sky
karena said yesterday her dad gave a yank and away her mom went. Her death was as easy as that. I felt my father, too, hovering, calling my mother to come. There may not be time where they are now, and yet, I sense urgency, even there, depth of feeling, warmth of care.
Karena said after her mother’s death, she looked like a little bird lying there. After my mother’s death, I slept in her bed. A glass egg I had given her dropped in the night. As I picked up the pieces, I felt her telling me the egg was broken now, and she was flown away. The cardinal she loved sat on her bird-feeder for hours looking in at us, helping us see.
I read this to Jane this morning and she remembers a line from the book Gilead on what heaven will be like, “just like here, only twice as nice.”
It works for me. : )
