A New Name For Mother
I wandered in an age old place with gray framed memories and dusty floors
a small girl child crouched just out of reach and watched me
not afraid, but not quite friendly.
She followed me, expectantly
as though I might show her something.
Without warning I came upon a woman I remember
with hands like mine and a broken voice
she didn’t look up, not even once.
She was busy spinning a blanket for herself.
She seemed incapable of looking at me.
I wanted her to see me – to hear me
but my words became solid and fell into the dust –
they couldn’t reach her
like they never, ever reached her.
I turned and looked at the little girl and she stepped out of the shadows.
I reached out my hand and she took it.
Quietly, gently, we opened the door and found the sun rising;
we looked at each other and smiled.