December 1–7 ❘ Disembodied
Disembodied
For Mom
How long was it before you missed
the pain-wasted shell you left at death,
that vessel you pushed through years
propped by walker and wheelchair
and tried to drag from bed to finish up
your sewing the day you slipped away?
When Dad met you at the threshold,
did you long to fill your arms with his familiar warmth
and hear his heart thumping under your ear?
Do you now wish for the smell of pies baking
or miss the prickle of salivation in reply?
Can you sing hymns without vocal cords,
play preludes without fingers,
do anything but silently hope?
Maybe you are already risen,
well-rested and refreshed, chatting
with Mother Eve’s other faithful daughters.
Maybe you accompany angel choirs
or offer to hem new white robes
for anyone who asks.
Read more of my poetry at www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry
Contact me at merrijane.rice@gmail.com
