Beacons Unreachable

Crowned with gold by the rising sun
         the tree tops taunt me

They reign joyously in their airy empyrean
         illuminated, exalted, beacons unreachable
                   from the vale of shadow in which I stand

Down upon the earth,
         the grasses tangle in an untidy carpet
                   dull and trampled, littered by crumpled brown leaves

The mock orange has lost half its foliage
         and the ragged fronds
                   reveal ivy encroaching from its roots

The memory of bridal blossoms, a mix of glad buds
         half-unfurled petals, and flowers full-blown
                   cannot charm, as unreachable as the crowned oaks

The glory of autumn gone
         nature half-dead lacks the clean clarity of winter
                   messiness drowns in dimness, made yet more dim
                         by the brilliance of the overarching heavens

As the dawning progresses to full morn
         light will reach the shadows, dispelling them

Would that it might reach me
 

In memory of my mother:
Too Late
One Crossing
Grievous Loss

 

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Too Late

          Delicate
               furled soft pink
                    the petals of a late summer rose

 
          The air should be langorous
               abuzz with bees
                    demanding the wafting of a fan for comfort

 
          Matte green
               traced by veins with a hint of red
                    the rose leaves are all they should be

 
          But the air chills my face
               crisp, autumnal
                    and the rose petals are brittle, frozen

 
          The month is November
               not the August
                    to which I cling

 

In memory of my mother:
Beacons Unreachable
One Crossing
Grievous Loss

 

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One Crossing

   now the grief is sharp
   my mother, oh, my mother
   come back, please, come back

 
   let me hear your voice
   let me touch your hand
   let me kiss your cheek

 
   you are dear to me, so dear
   my heart breaks that you have gone
   between one breath and the next you were gone

 
   oh, Mother, my mother
   return to me
   I want you back

 
   the pain is sharp
   but no one returns from that last departure
   I know it even as I beg for your return

 
   between one breath and the next, you slipped from the flesh
   freed spirit sitting easily, smiling
   you stood without thought, happy, and walked onward

 
   there is no crossing the same river twice
   I struggle with that truth
   longing for you

 
   longing
 

In memory of my mother:
Bereaved
Mourning
Grief
Lament
Missing Her
Grievous Loss

 

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Lament

   a fire burnt in my being
 
          in the depths
          in the darkness
          at the heart

 
   fire to create
   fire to love
   fire to be

 
          but grief has translated me through time and space
          away from myself

 
   o, bring me the burning coal
   heart, where is thy passion?
   fire, where is thy flame?

 
   even the ashes are absent

 

In memory of my mother:
Bereaved
Mourning
Grief
Missing Her
One Crossing
Grievous Loss

 

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Grief

    I have gone long past autumn
    The brilliance is fled
    Soft somberness cloaks me
         as I mourn

 

    The winter has not come yet
         to close down this inbetween interval

 

    I tread the shredded leaves underfoot
    Damp from yesterday’s rain, they do not rustle
    There should be weeping
         as I mourn

 

    But the season’s death is soft, weary;
         it drags and muffles, does not cut

 

    I stand beneath dark outstretched boughs
    Remembering another tree, flanked by two like it
    My heart weeps, but my eyes merely ache
         as I mourn

 

    The clarity of the distant sky has vanished,
         coming close to mingle with the soft air, removing hope

 

    Lost between my loss and an unknown future,
    I am alone and forsaken,
    Too weary to find my way
         as I mourn

 

In memory of my mother:
Bereaved
Mourning
Lament
Missing Her
One Crossing
Grievous Loss

 

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