At
this time of year, my thoughts drift strongly to my dearly departed mother’s
birthday, November 12. She was taken away
from us by a drunk driver when she was only 46.
Last year, I started to write a poem for her but writer’s block
prevented me from finishing it.
Do
you have some poems that, for some indeterminable reason, you were unable to
finish? I have a folder of half-written
poems. This year, I completed,“The
Golden Door of Dreams” in time for my mother’s birthday.
In
honor of overcoming writer’s block, I offer the following poem:
THE
GOLDEN DOOR OF DREAMS
As
she opens the secret door
Beautiful
light rippled across the floor
“Wake
up,” cried Ma, “open your eyes and see
I
open the Golden Door of what is and will always be”
“Mother,
please come in and speak to me,
Quickly
now, before it is too late
Reveal
the secrets before you cross
beyond
the reach of heaven’s gate”
The
golden light glitters
tiny
flecks of honey swirling
Ma
beckons me to follow
The
bedroom is whirling
I
stood at the threshold
And
slowly opened the door
The
whole world disappeared
And
the sky became my floor
“Time
is an illusion,” she said
“Your
life is but a dream
Wake
up, my child, to reality
and
listen to life’s audible stream”
I
reached out, grasping at thin air
hoping
to catch an angels’ wing
“She
does not see,” a voice boomed
And
I could no longer see anything
Once
again, I was back in my room
saddened
at the end of the angelic show
I
wanted to hug my Ma one last time
to
hold her tight and never let go
I
lay back down and closed my eyes,
imagining
that she was there
She
swept away the monsters under the bed
kissed
my forehead and patted my hair
Now
I know that life is a dream within a dream
that
time is an illusory focus, a painting that’s brittle
Ma
goes downstairs to make coffee and pancakes
and
leaves the door open, just a little
Happy birthday, Ma. I
miss you – Cronin Detzz 2013
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