The Time Mom Was There

Remembering the times you were there for me.

The time I went to kindergarten.
The time I get hit in the head with a rake.
The time I learned self-defense.
The time I sliced open my toe at the lake.

The time I enlisted in the Army.
The time I learned to swim in the pool.
The time I fought against the boxer.
The time I graduated from high school.

The time I lost a favorite dog.
The time I went with you on a hike.
The time I rode on top of snow.
The time I lost my favorite bike.

The time I crashed outside your door.
The time I ran off to Oklahoma.
The time I was chased by the mean dog.
The time I ran off to Arizona.

And don’t forget yesterday,
the day before,
and all the other days in between.
You are always there for me.

Mom, I love you.

 

When I Think Of You

home and away,
here and there,
north and south,
east and west,
land and sea,
kitchen and bedroom,

sunny and cloudy,
humid and arid,
asleep and awake,
quiet and loud,
hot and cold,
gentle and rough,

happy and sad,
calm and anxious,
peace and strife,
agree and disagree,
cheery and grumpy,
relaxed and stressed,

day and night,
before and after,
now and later,
together and apart,
yesterday and today,
always and forever,

This is when I think of you.

 

Out Of The Clouds

As you fly through the clouds,
everything appears the same;
pale, white, blank.

The plainness of the blankness
begins to dissolve into
threads and wisps.

You observe changes in hue,
fainter whites, light greys,
wispy threading.

Staring you discern contours,
cavities, missing color, nothing,
but not nothing.

Changes of threads and hue,
separating from you,
and returning in full.

You feel the presence of nothing;
randomly, occasionally,
increasingly often.

Startling disappearance of the white and wisps
and threads and greys
and contours and gaps.

And you are in openness
and space and nothing,

When you come out of the clouds, you see everything.