#4. Dear Mama

How could I know
the last time we hugged
would be forever?
How can it be
I will no longer see
your hands, your eyes, your smile?
I can still hear your whistle
(in the end, so soft like a whisper, but there, nonetheless)
I treasure your cards,
your writing an art, like calligraphy.
And the words they contain,
full of love to sustain and inspire me.
You were the grandmother of my children’s dreams…
embracing and creating where their fathers could not be.
Oh mama, it seems only yesterday
we drank tea on your balcony
there, in the evening desert warmth.
Thank you for accepting me, as myself.
Thank you for growing and raising your compassion
And modeling
the grace
of being.
I remain,
Forever Yours.

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