Trilogy & Epilogue

Her House
(1981)

Eight years have passed
And there is still an empty space
In the corner of my life.
Now, standing in the yard
I gaze at how lonely her house has become.
It is empty too.
Everything is just as the woman left it.
The rocker on the porch
Moves hauntingly in the wind.
Her sons have waited all these years
Unable to part with the things of her life.
At last, her things have become mine.
As I step through the door
Floods of memories come rushing to me.
It's hard to believe she is not there.
Except for a thin coating of dust, nothing has changed.
Time has stood still in this house.
An eerie feeling overwhelms me.
The calendar on the wall
Displays the month and year she died.
In the kitchen sink
Sits a single cup and saucer.
The cupboards still hold the staples
Of her meager life.
The bonnet the woman wore
Hangs neatly by the door.
A brittle, yellow newspaper
Rests on the table by her chair.
The radio, though silent many years
Sits proudly ready to play again.
All these sights amaze me
But one thing makes me stop cold.
In her bedroom, on the dresser
Rests the woman's powder box.
I pick it up, open it
And smell what I haven't for years.
At that moment she is there
I can feel her near me,
I see her everywhere I look,
And I smell the sweet fragrance.
The woman has been gone for years
Yet she gave me a wonderful gift today,
Of all her worldly treasures, and her spirit.
She is still with me.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Tree
(1981)

The sound of the chain saw was deafening.
I couldn't watch, yet,
I opened my eyes precisely at it fell.
The crash as it hit the ground was slight,
but to me it seemed tremendous.
Limbs crashing, twigs snapping.
In my mind all more traumatic than reality.
The tree was gone.
In its place the lonely stump.
Along with it went countless memories
That only it, and the woman could have known.
My only comfort in its absence
Are the memories that will be etched
Forever in my own mind.
It was beautiful
Although its trunk was bent severely
By a tornado years before.
Though handicapped the tree amaze us
Every year without fail
With a bountiful crop of red juicy apples.
In this way the tree returned the love
That the woman freely gave,
To the tree which most people would have destroyed.
I remember sitting on the sloping trunk
Amidst the shade withing the tree
Watching the woman work on hot summer days.
The woman and I knew how special the tree was.
It was something the two of us shared,
And I loved them both.
Now, I miss them both.
Tears came that day
When the tree no longer stood.
A very big part of my life was fading away.
Many things within me cried out as my heart broke.
Another part of my childhood was vanishing,
Just as the woman had left me years before.
I would never get them back.
The tears come again today
As I walk by the aging stump.
It is almost obliterated
From the years of weather it has suffered.
These tears are different than the old one.
I don't feel so empty now,
For around the stump I see a miracle.
There is a new, young tree struggling for life
Where the old-timer once stood.
The woman would be pleased.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My Girl
(1985)

The woman left me
When I was a child.
Now that I am a woman
With a child of my own, I realize
That a part of everything
Lives on in something else.
Though the old tree is gone
A part lives on in the sapling.
Though the original caretaker
Of the treasures is gone
The care is provided
By another hand.
The woman lives on through me
As I utilizethe things she used
In the home I now have.
When my girl was born
The woman seemed to live on again.
She was born on the woman's birthday.
A pink and white baby quilt
Handmade and never used,
Seemed made just for her.
Another gift from the woman
Ten years after she went away
To someone she never knew.
I rock my girl to sleep
In the woman's favorite chair.
I cover her at night
With the quilt the woman stitched.
My girl's clothes hang in the wardrobe
That once contained the woman's clothes.
My girl will never know the woman.
There is not even a picture to show.
Yet I wish the two could have met
So that my girl could have felt
The love and caring that I felt
When the woman held my hand.
That love lives on because I feel it now
Whenever my girl holds my hand.
A few years from now I'll pass on the love
With another gift from the woman.
I'll give my girl the necklace
That the woman and I have worn.
The necklace was gift to me
From her son who lovingly gave it to her
On a Mother's Day long ago.
It will be another thing
That the woman and my girl share
Over the span of generations.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

epilogue
(1987)

its snowing today
the elements are reclaiming the spot
where the last remnants of the woman's life stood
first it was fire
burning so fiercely hot
it made me cold
timbers built to house a model a
too crippled and old to stand
had to return to the earth
but not before rescuing a few memories
from the tangled vines that covered the walls
memories of the primitive tools used to work the soil
hours spent in the shade on the step
watching the woman in the garden
her passion
glowing embers cooled
more reminders revealed
bits of the past plucked from charred remains
now the snow brings warmth
no longer stark, black, sterile
there was snow the day we returned her to the earth
pristine, peace