September 27th, 2020
A mother feels between her breaths
where time stops between heart beats
and memory works like muscle
Here at the edge of intention
where childhood ends
and memory of the final nursing is lost
though she swore she’d never forget
He artfully negotiates the room like John Wick
She amuses herself with thoughts of what could have been had she married Keanu.
Nestled there against her skin
he entangled all that her childhood needed,
because Good Housekeeping.
Swollen with nourishment
for his cells and soul
and she gives
The tears as she types
in the moments she has allowed for self-care
The tears are the biological evidence
imprinting upon the air
expressed as ancestral intentions
It is of unknown source carried like a ruck sack
slung over the back carelessly by her offspring
as he moves into a light
transcribed from within his own lenses.
He was five
when his blue eyes transitioned
to the hue of verdant oceanic dreams
She was old enough to be his grandmother then
just as she was kissing the strange light on the day her own mother’s breath closed
The air around her trembled
signaling her fate
the pace quickened
the portal of her vision narrowed
Then, he was twelve.
In the span of only seven years he blossomed from innocent sponge to
It has been some time since she
that children come first,
and a paradigm of compassion, empathy, and respect can forge
a valiant child.
~ (c) MBennett, first published 6-15-2020 @ The Higher Process blog, all rights reserved.