When I look in the mirror,
I see,
The reincarnation of my mother.
Even though her eyes are now blue,
Instead of amber,
And her skin tone is now the shade of
Off-white instead of,
Caramel and honey,
I know she is there.
Even though her hair is now blonde with,
Conversation highlights instead of,
Silent midnight black,
This young lady speaks to me.
My mother is there.
I can see her,
Chemo vessels and her eulogy heart beating,
In rhythm to the number of days that she was alive,
16,790 solid.
She no longer has to look in the sun
For me to see the glare in her eyes because,
They now shine brighter than the 100million kilo-watt moon.
Even though her lips are thin
Instead of being filled with sugar sweet kisses,
I know, that this is her,
My mother.
She is no longer 5”8,
Instead she is 4”11,
Which makes it easier for me to place her into my heart,
And always feel her pounding into my nerves,
As though she were finally being revived.
Even though there was never a need for her teeth to be whitened,
They always shone brighter than stars.
This is a sign.
That we will be together again.
Even though her name is no longer La’Wanda,
It still clings to my memory.
Even though she is no longer here,
I see her face inside the shadow of another.
My mother…is there.