I was with her when she died,
only positive memories in my mind.
Holding her hand, leaning down close,
my mouth so near her ear.
Faith and love seemed to rush in
overcome all doubt as I said,
“Go toward the light mom.
Daddy’s there, he’s missed you.”
Her eyes opened. She smiled at me –
and then she was gone.
What was the sound I heard
before that last breath?
Not a death rattle. A sigh?
A wooshing? Surely the machines near her.
Or perhaps an angel’s wings?
Helping her soar to another universe.
A place to reunite with my father,
her son, her sisters and brother,
her mother and father.
A place with no pain, no loneliness.
I hope so.
I truly hope so.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets around the globe. We were asked to use the word “wing” or a form of the word, within our poem of exactly 44 words, sans title. I got so carried away in the emotional writing of the poem, that I went way over the 44 words. So posting it today for Open Link Night. Photo is one of my favorites of my mom, taken at my nephew’s cabin.