I still dream you hold my hand
as we walk across the pond.
but its surface was clean and unharmed by filth.

Your lungs were never deflated
and you would breathe so graciously.
I waited so long, my hair has grown
& your emerald eyes
had a lust for life.

I wish I could conjure your spirit when
they say how much they see you
in me.
But I'm left empty in the midst of all
they could never see,
I've grown up, but I'm never free
of the child you held in your arms.

I don't want to spend my life being haunted by a woman
that never fought her own ghosts.
Cancer is not a demon, it is an illness
and the zodiac you were born as
should be the only thing to touch you.
But still those weakened cells
took your body as their host.

Now I mourn you in the reflection of ponds
and wait for waterlilies to bloom in the place
of your face.

now I wait for your soft hands to hold me in your lap
and place a soft kiss on my forehead.

And when I think of my mother;
her poise and grace,
dresses of lace.
My desire for our souls to meet once more,
or to see your face in front of pearly gates.

—V.H.