In Memoriam: Anne Hessler Smith, 1932 - 2001

Six Years

It seems like a lifetime;
Eons ago that we last spoke,
Last hugged,
Last said our final “I love you.”
Is six a magic number,
Or am I merely “healing,”
However unwillingly?
Your face still lives in my mind.
Your love is still very much alive
In my heart,
But where are you now, Mom?
Each relentless year seems to stretch us
Just that little bit further apart.
My hand still reaches for yours
But the distance of time seems
To have left us only the
Whisper of our fingertips as they
Pass in the foggy realm of
Ethereal spirit and eternal love.
You, who gave me life,
Who fought for all of those hours,
Ridding your body of my weight,
My quickening kicks,
My little nudges and reminders
Of the life you helped create
And carried for a lifetime,
Are no longer before me
In a physical sense,
Yet you are always there.
But where is “there,” Mom?
Six years, and a lifetime of joy and pain
Seems more distant than it should.
Is this the death of Death
Or just a merely human quirk?
I still long to hold your hand
But the tears are taking longer to gather,
Longer to fall,
I do not like to think that someday
They may no longer be there for you at all.
Your hum as I leaned against your side,
The quiet lullaby that belonged only to you and me,
The confidences whispered into still nights and cozy hugs
Still haunt my mind.
My heart knows you like the back of my own hand
It’s my mind that is seemingly
Suddenly blind.
Heart to heart and
Life to life;
Mother and daughter
Inseparable by Death;
Forever together in Life.


Necklace of Tears

I think I will start a collection of tears.
I will string them together
To make a diamond necklace
Of longing and remembrance.
Six years of tears
In various sizes and cuts,
Gleaming with the polish
Of unutterable grief and unspeakable Love.
Faceted by time;
Character carved by emotion,
Flashing lights and shapely stones
Geologically preserved and ready for display.
Only, I will probably still hide them away
In a special box intended only
For the most precious of jewels,
To be opened on occasion
And covetously gazed upon
By the daughter whose love
So generously supplied them
For this purpose.
This precious, rare Jewel,
To be held in trust for those who follow us
A lifetime later,
Who will get to see these fossilized
Emotions in the full glory of beauty they express,
Although both of us will be gone by then
And there will be no more diamond tears, Mom,
For your special necklace.

Another Birthday, Mom

You seem so far and near;
The meager distance of a tear
Trailing down a weathering cheek.
Nature left no options,
We knew you were dying
But then you were so suddenly dead.
There was no time for conversations
About birthdays and other notions.
Not knowing what to do a tear or two
Is shed in honor of the day
As if you were merely "away."
Perhaps I'll light a candle on a cupcake,
Just in case. You can use
A puff of wind to blow the candle out,
But remember to make a wish first.
As a falling star, you can give me a wish.
It will be like old times, old birthdays.
We will spend the day together,
Heart in heart. Two souls entwined,
Caressing my face pretending to be tears.

And, finally, this one is here just because I think Mom might have really liked it:

Poets' Dreams

Beauty swiftly dissipates
Into realms of
Sleep forgetfulness.
Tears and grief from
Not writing in our sleep epitaph
Lost bits of beauty,
Totaling a great whole.
Salty, flowing rivers course down
Soft and sleepy cheeks as the heart
Struggles to awaken to the call.
Wishing, half-asleep, dreams were
Not as fragile as a mist
Before the strangely chilling breezes
Coursing through the night.
The mind aches dully
As the brain refuses to release
What wakes the heart with beauty
In our sleep.