orgami's diary

orgami's Diaryland Diary

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For Dorothy

said it was cancer
come calling
eating away your soul

the medicine to cure
killing you the rest
of the way

and seven wrapped
Christmas gifts
under the trees

Why didnt I bother
calling
blamed the cold
lack of funds
the five mile walk
from Number Eleven

you would have been
there

so we talked on the
phone
for all the bravado
and falseness of
it my fear just
stole that final
meeting

and in all the white
haired old women I
see you are always
turning up
forever seventy

I still keep all
the negatives
losing the photographs
in moods and moves

I still put up the tree
and hang decorations
but buried in the dark
under my own limbs
is the weight
of the fallen
years
bending like snowfall

I wonder what it was
you wanted to give me
how you picked it out
wrapped it hoping I
would show up like
I always did

my own selfish cancer
eating me
now

the guilt
the shame

but its not about me
its about others now

but still
it carrys well
how we are shaped
in the end
by wind
and faultlines
by love
fear

all the
escalations
and explorations
of the limitless
place of escape

Merry Christmas Mother

.......

3:15 p.m. - 2010-11-22

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