Patricia
April 22, 2016
I never called
you that
your name
carried
with no hint
of rhyme
but of title
granted
to those who
shared sacred space
in my childhood
memories
You were there
that 4th of July
as the Parade
made it's way
down Elm Street
and I made
my way
down the greenstick
fracture
hill
You took us in
your hand
marked with
sapphire
love
Your habits
color coordinated
with the seasons
on Off Lord Road
You led
us into
the darkened
velvet
rosarium
shy of the gifts
given to the others
you sang softly
close to
the scarlet sanctuary lamp
Again I would fall
backwards
into expectant arms
It was you
I called
when I leapt
too high
fell forward
trying to escape
the inevitable
Your spirit song
calming
as crimson
poured down my face
It was you
they called
for catered banquets
slews of salad rolls
and slaw
for wedding cakes
of buttercream confections
layered back pantry intentions
They came
from miles
for hot summer
sandwiches
grinders made fresh
out of an
aluminum
airstream
arrangement
You made a home
for yourself
your brother
and
the one who knew all
in the dark
dank under belly
of another's life
I did not know
what befallen
you
once I left
but
I heard
you
gave
a home to
angels
I heard
you
found
a home
shelter
in the
dew of the sea
Now
In your silence
I hear
sweet
spirit
song
in your memory
Patricia Malonson
Sept. 7, 1941 - Feb. 10, 2016
NaPoWriMo 2016 #22
0 comments