Author: Margie

Is it dark enough, sister?
Do you need the light?
I hung your picture
over my bed
and your eyes
that cannot see
found a corner.
Stay with me
for a little while
I can be your eyes.

The quilt our gramma made
I use it now
to warm me
I pull its thickness
to my chin at night
when the moon
smears through the window.

It is cold here
without you ~ I sleep
in our mother’s robe
the way she taught us
arms ’round our knees
head tucked to chest —

I look out the window
beyond its coppered rivets
and see you, young again
red bicycle with white basket
full of apples and violets.
Stay with me
in this corner which is my room.

Can you see me, sister
past the disrobing of night
the arms of the sun
pulling the darkness away?

Sister, stay with me
we can laugh
and tickle each other
like we did
as young girls
running to the beach.

Sister, I miss you so
but I know you had to go!
_______________________________
In loving memory of my dearest sister Terri who died of ALS
on December 31, 2018.

Make my stance

like that of a noble tree

standing

yet growing

firm and stable

yet able

to bend with the breeze.

Grief has its rhythm - first the wild 
swift tide of dark despair 
the time of bleak aloneness ~

When even God's not there 
and then the slow receding
till quiet calms the sea 
and bare, washed sand is everywhere 
where castles used to be ~

The gentle lapping of the waves 
upon the shore - and then 
the pearl-lined shells of memories 
to help us smile again ~ 

Night summer breeze 
whispering in the trees 
dreams of love and you ~
Heart swells
bringing tears to my eyes 
thoughts of paradise ~
I kissed the flowers at your grave
knelt and pressed my face to earth ~
Will you come again 
upon the breeze
caressing my cheeks 
helping me to be brave? 

Being alone

is not being lonely

it’s a long walk

on a wide beach

where the only sound

is a bird’s cry

the wind racing a blue sky

and surf riding the shore ~

_______________________

Loneliness

is being alone

with a room full of people

who don’t care

when despair is a tear

on a frozen cheek

in a bright room ~