Acceptance
If you see an old woman
trudging alone
through the mall, don’t hide
in Dillards
behind the shelves of razors,
moccasins, aftershave.
She’s been searching for you
grave-filled days
ghosted with blue-jeans,
soft cotton sweats–faded
charcoal and blue hanging
on racks,
aroma of strong coffee like her
dead son loved
drifting
from the food court
through crowds of shoppers,
the coffee’s bitter taste,
her son’s eyes,
his smile in other faces.
Grief takes her home
where she pours liquid
Tide into the washing machine,
brews strong coffee,
waters her son’s philodendron,
wraps herself in thermal
against the cold
slipping through the cracks.
(c)Mary Harrison, 1993
BACK
Advertisements
3 comments
Comments feed for this article
October 27, 2012 at 11:06 pm
dogunconditional
poetry is so meaningful. You must always have an idea for a poem.
Thank you so much for your likes on my dog blog! That was very kind of you.
October 27, 2012 at 11:42 pm
oldsunbird
Thank you for liking my poem. I don’t know how you found it. I’m fairly new at word press and need to learn how to connect my blogs. I am always so glad to find others who love dogs. I’ll be checking you out again.
December 24, 2012 at 1:14 pm
oldsunbird
Funny thing. I don’t always have an idea for a poem. I’ve gone months without writing a line. Other times, they just come tumbling.