I am lifted
Blood on a field Blood in a cloud
and then so many
streams flowing, unassuming.
I take your hand, lean
over you and kiss your forehead,
weeping, praying, saying
again and again I love you, thank you.
Your breaths are short, coming from below
not from your chest, but from your deepest gut,
stillness, ease, a letting go.
I drop like a bird on your shoulder.
I know you are leaving. You know
it is a beautiful alchemy, accumulation
of a life so gloriously lived. I tell you
to take Jesus’ hand and he will take you
to the golden tender light of eternal heaven.
You take his hand, and God
has become the atmosphere,
encapsulating, removing time.
Your last breath is more
a soft sigh than a breath,
not a cross-wind of struggle,
not a brush-stroke of “But wait..”
You are gone.
Seagulls fill the view from the window,
circling, joyful in their angelic form.
You are free.
My heart has merged with yours,
forest blue, deep and rich and forever.
My mother, my powerful ally,
friend for all ages – goodbye,
the six-month journey to this point
was treacherous, the last weeks, tortuous,
but these final moments were divine,
was God’s grace in full view, mercy
that healed all pain gone before,
resurrection visible like spread-out water lilies
or Elysian Fields, sublime.
My mother, the sky is again yours,
embracing the seen and unseen spectrums.
Your sky is prophecy, feeding
the bedrock and the water’s reflection,
all parts proved sacred, identical
to the immutable moving whole.
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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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Read whole poem:
https://allisongrayhurst.com/my-mothers-sky/
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