My mother would have loved this house.
All she ever wanted was a fireplace -
And I have one that’s never held a fire.

She lived in what the rich would call a hovel.
It was clean but it was old and worn.
I have two stories and a chandelier.

She would have liked my upstairs guest room
And the elegant stairway leading there.
She would have reveled in the sun-filled aerie.

Would that I could give it all to her right now,
But she never lived to see this house,
To leave her essence in the air and walls.

She died without a fireplace of her own.
Because of that, I’ll never light the one included
In this house that far exceeds what I deserve.
                                ljm

I reach for her love and am handed back anger.
I learn all the dance steps and what I should wear
But the Prom invitation never comes in the mail
And I’m scolded for lack of attendance.

My pen has been poisoned by her hateful words
It trembles and writhes in my shaking hand.
The ink blots and smudges are all shaped like teardrops
And the letters assemble to only spell pain
        ljm

-


what do you say to someone
you love from such a distance ?

a stroke could be measured by
how far it is from the first floor
to the intensive care unit

or from the steering wheel
to the door **** of the
hospital entrance

or from your drive way to
the spot where you have to
pay for parking

or from the handset of
your telephone to his ear—

exhausted,

you can only
whisper
into it—

"i love you Daddy"

and hope this time
he can feel your
breath...


s jones
Nov 2021


.

(This was inspired by Pradip's comments on
      an old  poem  of mine,  "Anticipation."
          It's been a year since...and i still
             go back to that poem, to read
                his words.....to recall the
                    countless waitings i
                        went through in
                              my life.)


Pradip Chattopadhyay › Anticipation
Anticipation is such a perfect word Sally for the hopeful wait.
Let's hope we come out of it more resilient more humane.



THE HOPEFUL WAIT

We wait for something to
take place...desperately,
we count the days, the hours,
for a wish to materialize,

a small voice whispers
encourages us to hang on,
to not think of the waiting
as a difficulty,
like, a cross to bear,
because.....it is not...

the waiting time, the passing
hours, are journeys where
epiphanies unfold, and clarify
our dimmed perspectives.

while we wait, while battling
adversity and weariness,
we must make sure to fortify
our faith, our determination,
our patience, and not go the
opposite way...

some may not agree...but, there is
wisdom in what could be, where
none is certain...we see its beauty
when recalling the waiting.....life
teaches us to welcome, to embrace
the uncertainty....to trust the wait.

............
.........
.....


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  November 27, 20

First it's the knees that let us down,
then it's our back and arms.
Next we lose our balance
and we struggle to move along.

We worry about all kinds of things,
paranoia is no ones friend.
Problems increase and multiply,
they just never seem to end.

Now our teeth start to crumble,
no longer the grinding mill.
We visit the dentist often,
as we have certain teeth to fill.

Our taste buds start to fail us
and we struggle with our sight.
We would love to go out in the evening
but we get scared when it's dark at night.

Do you remember when we were younger,
when we were in our youth?
We really were so happy,
our photos are living proof.

But now we are much older,
our youth is left in the past.
Those days we still remember,
oh if only those days would last.